Body of a Silver Sea: Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji
by Haru Nanase
Summary: Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji - Victor's Point of View [College AU] Prompt: Victor develops a crush on the shy, enigmatic student in his art history class. Meanwhile, a mysterious skater at his new local rink challenges him to new heights.
1. Chapter 1

Haru: Hey everyone. I know many of you enjoyed Rei's work and I hope you won't hate this. It's best if you've already read that fic or are at least up to the same chapter, this is just intended to fill in gaps and give you Victor's point of view of events. Please go easy on me, I am not a writer. We have been collaborating on this for a while but naturally there will be some small differences.

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 **(Wednesday, 9 September 2015 - 8:30am, Detroit, Michigan)**

Victor woke up abruptly, sitting up all at once and accidentally making himself dizzy in the process. He put his head in his hands. He didn't recognise his surroundings at first, until he recalled that he had just relocated which was the most likely source of his nightmare due to the abiding jet lag. Groping for his phone in order to check the time, he slowly registered that he was already late, along with a series of messages from his friend. No time! Swinging out of bed, he pulled on the clothes closest to him from their perpetual pile, grabbed his bag and set off. Normally nothing would cause him to forgo his morning coffee, but today was an emergency as it was his first day of class. He couldn't afford to be late.

Arriving with barely enough time to spare, he fished to check he had still remembered his keys and wallet. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed a tie from his bag and quickly used the band to pull his hair out of his face. Post grad in America was going to be challenging enough without the additional frustration of his hair in his face or the extra attention it would attract between the length and colour. Deeming himself to be passably presentable considering the circumstances, he turned on his heel and exited the bathroom to find his classroom along with whatever awaited him there.

Upon arrival, he scanned the room for spare seats and realised in his lateness the only the back right of the room was left available. That was unfortunate but on it did serve his needs, he could avoid attention here and if he ended up being a spacecase intermittently nobody would notice, at least that was the mental justification he gave to himself as he slid into his seat. Art history. Post grad was as good a time to branch out as any, right? He pulled out his stuff. Besides, it did have something to do with literature, sometimes there were things that words couldn't adequately express and he needed to at least try to explore those and gain a better understanding of that if he was ever going to be a decent writer. He was messing with his stuff and mulling over the lack of things in his life apart from skating, books and impulsivity that resulted in him being this class when he noticed the boy beside him staring at him, with his mouth hanging open. He looked very young, he noted.

"Yes? May I help you?"

"No, I'm sorry," the boy quietly mumbled while looking shyly, "You just have very long hair.". He paused, seemingly unable to look away temporarily, "It's nice.". After a very long moment, the boy self consciously turned back to continue with what he was doing.

Victor peered over at him, he appeared to be drawing an octopus. Or was it octopi? He didn't remember the word for one. Was he an artist? He supposed that made more sense for him to be here than it did himself, considering the class.

It was ridiculous, but he felt himself smiling, less from the compliment than from the way it was delivered. It had been spoken as if it had been drawn from him involuntarily, like the student couldn't help himself despite being painfully shy. He looked over the boy again, carefully this time. Young and asian, with glasses and cute, messy hair. He had large, interestingly shaped, really amazing eyes. He was gorgeous, but that wasn't all. He was gorgeous, adorable and had a sense of innocence about him, a rare combination. It was touching, and he felt a strange emotion overcome him.

He found it hard to tell how long it was he spent ruminating but today thoughts were creeping in and not leaving him alone. It was happening more and more of late. It was happening now over the student next to him. You don't know him, he reminded himself. That annoying part of his mind that he seemed to be helpless against and constantly got him in trouble murmured back _no, but I want to._

The professor finally showed, and once he attained that this today's lecture was going to be inane, he listened with half an ear. The typical syllabus and examples were handed out. He picked up his phone and read the messages left from Chris, the usual from him although he sounded a tad panicked. He texted back appropriately encouraging messages to his current drama before reassuring him that he was fine and could manage by himself.

Chris seemed to think his predilection for only paying attention to what interested him was going to cause problems while he was living in another country alone. He had half a point, although everyone thought he was clueless, he also had the ability to be very perceptive in unusual ways when he was actually interested in something. Swinging between those two extremes simply based on what he felt like but had no control over wasn't something most understood so they usually just pegged him as an airhead which wasn't exactly accurate. The constant underestimation always worked in his favour but it always proved to be incredibly isolating. Chris worried too much. Then he couldn't help himself, at least he knew Chris would get it.

Quickly he texted Chris:

 **: There's this Asian student sitting next to me. And he's beautiful. Oh so beautiful**

 **C: !**

 **: And I want to talk to him. Badly**

 **C: Then do it!**

 **C: I encourage this behaviour!**

 **Remember what we talked about?**

He remembered. Chris wanted him to put himself out there more, form connections with others. He found that hard to do and back home how much he was known interfered with that, coming here meant relative anonymity and a fresh chance that Chris had been urging him to take the initiative with. The lack of friends and romantic activity in his life was something Chris was very vocal over and he couldn't argue, he had precious few of the former and it had been a very long time when it came to the latter. The truth was he wasn't very adept at starting friendships or anything else. He sat back and thought for a moment, memories surfaced of the last time they talked about this, "rely on your strengths", Chris had been rather amandant on that particular point.

Technically speaking, literature was his strength. He loved poetry. Could he give him a note? At best he would probably have to respond and at worst he would at least find out if the student beside him had taste. Taste was important and indispensable, it often spoke of other things including what someone valued most. He wanted to try to get to know him, there was something about him that was drawing him in. But he should be polite first. It was the best he was going to come up with on such short notice as the class was drawing to a close around him. He had to hurry. He quickly tore a paper out, scribbled "My name is Victor. And yours?", and folded it, passing it to the quiet cutie to his right with a smile.

The gorgeous stranger took the note hesitantly.

He resumed texting Chris:

 **: I gave him a note. That should be a good conversation starter**

 **: And he walked away.**

 **: Okay then**

 **: It's not like I'm gonna cry or anything**

 **C: Victor**

 **: Okay maybe just a little bit. He was cute**

He had watched him as he opened it and made an almost unbecoming face. He didn't appear to do anything else, simply tucked it into his notepad and left the class just after the majority of the other students.

 _Crap_


	2. Chapter 2

Haru: Y'all are getting this early cause my friend from overseas just arrived and I'm not sure I'll still be physically intact enough to be capable of posting it tomorrow. But the good news is that they are an actual skater so I get to mine them for info. And ty Atelerix

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 **(Wednesday, 9 September 2015 – 1:00pm, Detroit, Michigan)**

After today's colossal failure, Victor tried to pick himself back up. Most of the time he could shake things off, simply revisit them later if he had to or ignore them completely but that strategy wasn't working this time. He shook his head, grabbed his earphones and turned on some music while he kept a steady running pace back to his apartment. He didn't do it too often but when he couldn't clear his mind he instead turned to running. It was hard to think if you ran fast enough.

He arrived back to what was set to be his new home for at least the next nine months. He hadn't finished unpacking yet though he'd been careful not to bring too much and overdo it the way he usually did. Instead he'd compromised with himself and allowed himself a small budget to decorate the two room apartment in a nice mix of monochromes, with accent colours he could change if he felt like it. It wasn't right yet but it was shaping up. The mixture of ivory, a few well selected greys and charcoal helped calm him down. He wasn't sure what accent colour he was using this time, not purple again, he left that behind in St. Petersburg. He toyed with it, maybe a nice dark aqua with shade of lime green? It felt right. More importantly it was fresh and focused. He knew he would need that in the months to come.

As he walked in, he dropped his bag in the other room that he used as his study and went straight to the fridge since he forgot to eat this morning. Opening it, he checked. Nothing. He hadn't been shopping yet after the first trip, so he'd have to do it tonight, another thing to deal with. He cursed and let the door fall back. He leaned backwards against the bench on his elbows as he sighed – things were not going his way. It felt like his luck had followed him here. Perhaps it didn't plan to stop anytime soon. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before deciding on a plan of action. He could feel that tonight was going to be one of those nights, it was better to at least try to deal with it productively.

He made a run to the store and brought back enough fresh produce to last at least the next 5 days, then set to work on making some things he could keep in the fridge and the freezer. He found his speaker, singing along obnoxiously loudly to one of his playlists. He was going to be that type of neighbour. Halfway through this karaoke cook prep, he started to settle down. Perhaps tonight might be doable after all. By the time he was done he had enough lunches and extra meals for the week to see him through both college and training. He had dinner for tonight ready to go, he just needed to cook the last part.

He wondered over to the bookshelf, one of the only indulgences he'd bothered with. He traced the shelves until he found what he was looking for, The Outsiders. Part of moving here meant access to new books and cultural influences and he had figured time spent in America would be wasted if he didn't get to know the unique literature that wasn't over harped but still a staple, even if you didn't run across it on must read lists. He was enjoying it so far, it was short, to the point and poignant. Also, although he disliked admitting it, he was growing attached to Ponyboy. He threw himself on the sofa and opened to his mark, losing himself there until it was time. Once it was late afternoon, he finished his page, marked and closed it, leaving it on the sofa.

It was time. He grabbed his other bag from his bedroom and started on the way to the rink. By the time he got there it was harbouring on sunset. He warmed up, put on his skates and got to work. These days he favoured putting as much as he could into a training session and going hard, trying to get as much done as possible rather than waste hours at a lesser pace. Thoughts of earlier today floated back into his mind. It felt like a record that was playing smoothly only to scratch suddenly. He sighed in defeat. It was the same. He was having the same problem with his routine, the choreo went smoothly then it scratched and squealed. Something was still wrong, it had been like this since he'd started working on it in May. Maybe it was him? He slowed down considerably but kept skating, taking his version of a breather. He settled in on the sequences and movements he did just for himself, just for fun; the things that challenged him and where he still had more to work on, like quad axels. He didn't skate most of these in front of anyone else, after this many years on the international stage he needed to have something that was just for him, that he could keep to himself. His mind cleared and his body took over. Once it was clear he stopped for water and a real breather.

While he caught his breath, he thought things over. Maybe he was thinking about this from the wrong perspective. If his feelings were the same, if he felt the same, did that mean the problem and solution were the same in both cases? Or at least connected? It was worth a shot. He thought over what wouldn't let his choreo work, after this much time it was clear there was something more to it. He had chosen his free skate based on the hole that seemed to be eating him slowly from the inside out for the last decade, with no end in sight. What if it wasn't enough to simply express that it was there? Or was he supposed to do something about it? If so, where did he even start when he had tried pretty much everything over the last decade to get rid of it and nothing had ever worked? When he thought about that he realised he had focused on almost nothing else in that time. Was that why he felt so empty?

The gorgeous strangers face floated back into his mind. Why did that bother him so much? Rejection wasn't unusual. Compared to the hole, it was nothing. _No, you know that's not true._ Just like that, his other half was back again. If it was consistent at anything at all, the one thing that could be said for it was it never let him lie to himself for very long when it came to important things. He stopped and considered that. Was this important? There was nothing to lose at this point, he had very little time to pull the rest of this together since September was full of important skating events, he'd be lucky if he wasn't assigned to one of them. He thought of the quiet students face again. He probed the edges of the hole. Yes, it hurt. He hurt.

The connection right now wasn't important, he'd figure that out over the next week or more if he had to. Instead, for the rest of the session, he used the quiet boy's face whenever he started feeling off. It worked, slowly. Surely. At least something had. He filed it away for further use. He wasn't looking forward to going down this rabbit hole but it was now apparent he had no choice. At least he now had a solid excuse to talk to him even if he could never tell him why. Some part of him breathed easier knowing that and that made another, more logical part of him even more disturbed.

He finished as it was already night. He was taking off his skates when another figure stepped onto the ice, not bothering with the lights. He watched them as he stretched out and warmed down properly, making sure to be totally silent as to not interrupt them. There was something special about them, about the way they moved, that kind of expressiveness that wasn't forced or learned was extremely rare. Victor watched silently in awe as the mysterious skater went through part of their routine. He decided to leave, it had already been five minutes and was doing so quietly when he heard them call out. He had already reached the door but looked back, hesitating after hearing them; 'No' he thought firmly, 'I can't face anyone tonight'. He slipped out the door and melted away quietly into the night.

Victor returned home, exhausted. That was good, it meant he would sleep tonight no matter what. He headed straight to the kitchen and threw the leek and garlic soup he'd made earlier into a large pan. He poured in the mussels that had already been thoroughly washed and timed it carefully and exactly. They had only just come into season and he was already at it. He cut up sourdough, toasted it lightly and grabbed the decent butter, then poured 2/3 of the soup and mussels into the biggest bowl he could find. There, comfort food. He always knew how well or bad he was doing by what he was making and this was far from a favourable direction as it was one of his favourite comfort foods. He chowed down less than gracefully but then slowed down to eat, finally relaxing.

Moments after, a face time from Chris came through. He didn't feel particularly like dealing with Chris right now, as much as he loved him but he also knew he'd only worry further if he didn't take this. He hit the button and watched Chris's face light up on the screen then set his tablet back into its upright holder so he could continue eating. Nothing was going to distract him from his food, not even the devilishly cute guy in front of him who couldn't seem to hit pause for a minute or breathe without starting drama.

"Vitya!" Chris looked well.

"Hi Chris! How are you? Did you recover your missing garments?", he said this all in one breath while raising an eyebrow with a smile at Chris to confirm what he undoubtably thought he was implying.

Chris saw straight through it, amused though he was by the preemptive deflection and chuckled "Of course". He levelled a glance at Victor, taking in the impish smile before carelessly brushing the hair starting to fall in his eyes, "though I can't be held responsible for what the middle aged ladies nearby may have seen and heard of the resulting retrieval.". His deep voice echoed around the room "Is that what I think it is?", he asked, eyeing the large bowl full of yellow soup with floating black shells on top.

"Yes," Victor didn't give him a chance to expand on the why's when it came to this. But being friends for over 10 years has its benefits, and Chris chose to take the point and smirked.

"Anyhow, you must tell me about your first day since you can no longer share your cooking.", he pretended to pout as Jana, his cat seemed to appear out of thin air beside him on the screen, meowing hello and head butting the speaker on their end. "Did you enjoy it? Did you make any friends?"

"Hello Jana," he appraised her and decided she looked well enough. They were well acquainted with one another and she was one of his two favourite felines, thankfully the feeling was mutual. " I'm not sure enjoyment is the word I would choose for today though, overall or the class. The teacher bores me."

"That bad?", he started to look slightly concerned.

"The class isn't bad, it seems like it will be interesting. I have to go to a museum every single week though.", at this Chris crowed with laughter and proceeded to half fall back onto the bed. That he was relaxed was a good sign.

"You? In a museum?", he continued before shooting a look back quickly and somehow managed to look haughty, "I find that hard to imagine on a regular basis unless you find an incentive."

"I think our definition of incentive differs considerably as far as this conversation is concerned." He left that opened ended since they were both aware of what Chris considered a good incentive due to previous escapades the very few times he'd ever set foot in a museum.

Chris continued to smile in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable before coming out with "So how are your programs coming along? And that hottie in your class? Did you get the chance to talk with him yet?". The faces Chris was making at him were ungodly even by their standards, and he looked down so he could avoid seeing any more of it.

"I made some progress today with my program for the first time in months, abet it was small. No, I didn't get to talk to him yet. I settled on doing it tomorrow.", he hoped Chris didn't catch the slight strain in his voice that would betray it wasn't for the reason Chris thinks it is. Chris was self obsessed but incredibly good at reading people. He had to hope that today self obsessed was winning out.

"I see. Well, when you get to it, send pics!" Victor rolled his eyes and conceded with a sigh since he knew the amount of badgering that would proceed to drive him completely insane if he didn't. Apparently self obsessed was winning out. Thank god. "But seriously, you don't look so great.", he heard just when he thought he'd escaped. He looked up to see a serious expression.

"I'm managing. Jet lag is a son of a bitch." Chris laughed but he could tell his old friend wasn't convinced. "I haven't set up properly yet, give me two to three weeks first." He used the smile he knew was Chris's personal favourite against him and used the way of speaking he reserved only for those close to him, "I promise I'll be back to fawning over you the way you prefer.", while Chris started to colour lightly and make loud, wordless sounds of denial.

"Besides that," Chris said hastily, still blushing slightly, "Look at your hair! And your eyes!", since Chris generally did his hair whenever he was around, he seemed to feel part ownership of it. It's true his hair was a mess, he hadn't been taking care of it properly, stuff like that was too much mucking around for his own taste and it was starting to show. His eyes of course were a mess from jet lag, not being able to sleep and the things that had been keeping him up at night. "If you don't get your mojo within that time frame and back to your usual cheerful self, I am personally bringing the Calvary" this was Chris's way of telling him if he didn't get it together that he was personally coming over to put him back together. A passing thought countered that it didn't feel so good to be Humpty Dumpty, did it?

"Send me a shopping list and a to do list and I'll take care of it.", Victor muttered lazily as he yawned. He was a sleepy now. It was barely hitting 9pm, but he was about to go to bed and get a solid 12 hours so he could start catching up on everything tomorrow.

Chris still looked unconvinced but was mostly overjoyed that there was a task he could do from over there. "Leave it to me! You better do it exactly as I say though!". He assured him that he would. He would catch up on all Chris's real news on the weekend, when he had the time and energy to devote to him fully.

They said their goodnights, and Victor stumbled and collapsed into bed. He went to sleep with his mind playing one of his favourite songs from when he was small, Claire de Lune, over and over again and the ghostly image of that boy's face, occasionally mixed in with the skaters figure doing a partial sequence from earlier. His last thought as he fell asleep was that he considered maybe he was starting to comprehend the lure behind the power of art.


	3. Chapter 3

Haru: Be forewarned of the unbearable awkwardness.

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 **(Thursday, 10 September 2015 –** **7** **:45am, Detroit, Michigan)**

Victor awoke earlier than expected at 7:45am without his alarm. Yawning, rolling over before slowly sitting up while still mostly asleep. He stumbled through showering, dressing, grabbed his clothes and bag, then instinctually headed into the kitchen to get breakfast. After eating, he felt half awake and slipped his lunch into his bag before he could forget. He'd had 11 hours sleep and that counted as a good start but he wasn't going to chance it, he walked out the door still yawning. Walking woke him up further, enough to start to enjoy the morning before it got too loud or crowded.

He tracked towards to the only source of decent coffee he had so far managed to discover and after procuring a latte, made his way his favourite spot. It was eerie with nobody around and he sat quietly while sipping, surprised at how calm his mind was considering what he was about to do. His thoughts were content for the first time in a long time. He had no doubt that would change soon but he intended to enjoy it while it lasted to its fullest extent, along with the coffee, early morning and lack of people; this counted as a small brief slice of bliss for him.

After all, he was not a morning person. He wasn't sure he was ready to do this but right now that other part was back and it wasn't letting go. It was demanding he do this. It was important to it and to his skating. He assessed the situation knowing fighting was fruitless and conceded on the basis of skating, curiousity and the other even weirder, more complex feelings swirling below the surface that he couldn't yet put a name to or properly fathom. He had to be careful though, yesterday the innocent boy had completely disarmed him with merely a look.

He managed relatively well until it was approaching lunchtime, his poetry class had sped by in a breeze. Spotting his target in the library, he hovered nearby, assessing the books in front of him while eavesdropping. He didn't intend to but he happened upon the end of a call. Cautiously ignoring that, he quietly positioned himself naturally at the other end of the same sofa the art history student who sat next to him yesterday was on. He pulled his book back out. Not The Outsiders this time, that would be too embarrassing, besides he was almost finished. Instead, Andrei Belys' Petersburg was in his hand and he was intensely focused on it while using his peripheral vision to ensure he wasn't making the shy student too uncomfortable. He took notes as necessary while occasionally glancing at the boy. The boy was glancing at him just as much, if not more. He decided this was as good a signal as he was going to get. Hell with it.

"You're in my art history class, right?" he asked in his usual positive, open, friendly way. All he got in reply was a tentative nod. "You were drawing those octopi yesterday, right?", he was trying to communicate that he had paid attention and that he admired his ability. Another nod, his face was blank but his eyes were careful. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. "What's your name?", he asked kindly.

"Katsuki, Yuri.", Victor absorbed that privately for a long moment before the student finally asked him a question for the first time. "And yours?". This stunned him into silence. The combination of a question and of all questions, that question? Had he not given him a note telling him his name? Had he not read it? Why not? It didn't make any sense to him. How was he going to communicate with him when this Yuri clearly didn't even communicate in the same way as him? Should he not give him any more notes? That wasn't an option. He didn't know how to communicate the more important parts of himself without them.

Just like that, once again this unassuming quiet boy had thrown him off completely. He stared in confusion as he started to try to speak, attempting to wrap his mind around what was happening as he said it, "Victor Nikiforov?". It came out unsure, almost as if he didn't know who he was, almost as a question. He mentally kicked himself. The demure boy named Yuri suddenly yanked a page from his notepad as if it was an involuntarily response. Again? "Are you ok?", he was really starting to get concerned about this guy. He would have to tread carefully, clearly he was not just shy, but very sensitive. This was fast becoming a minefield.

Yuri was now staring at him wide eyed with enough tension filling the air you would have been able to notice a pin drop. "You're **the** Victor Nikiforov?". _Shit._ He had been hoping to avoid this at all costs. He didn't want people to know who he was. He didn't want the expectations that came with that, for once he wanted to be able to be himself. But now it was unavoidable, Yuri had asked and Victor couldn't lie to him. He was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. He decided to nod, it was the only safe way to ensure his voice didn't come out sounding like the strangled cat he's sure it would.

"What are you doing **here**? Don't you have to be blowing everyone away somewhere?" There it was. It had begun. He took a depth breath. He could be patient. Especially for him. He laughed softly to himself, if only Yuri knew the truth, but he stopped writing and reading and looked up. Yuri was shaking. Victor raked his mind, deeply concerned, trying to find a way to put him at ease. He hoped projecting calm might help. "Not until next month.", he replied serenely. His ponytail was hurting and this situation was stressing him out, he pulled out his hair tie and ran his fingers through his hair to detangle it, as he said softly with a slight smile, "So until I start skating again, it seems we're going to be classmates, Yuri.". He liked the sound of his name as he said it, he could almost taste it. This Yuri was nothing like their other teammate Yuri back home. He went back to writing but then looked up. Yuri was still looking at him, it seemed as if his eyes were trying to communicate something important, something his mouth couldn't possibly get past. As much as Victor hated this line of questioning, he felt terrible for him too, it was clear Yuri was as conflicted about this he was.

"Why are you even in Detroit?" Yuri almost demanded. He sighed internally, one step forward, two steps back. Maybe honesty was the best policy. Maybe being himself instead of trying to be what everyone else needed was right, even if it was just this once. He could be selfish for a second, couldn't he? If it helped Yuri understand?

This time he responded even more quietly, softly and with meaning, as if he was asking Yuri's personal permission as he looked up into his eyes and held his gaze, "Can't I be somewhere that isn't Russia?" Aren't I allowed to be here? That was what he was really asking. Didn't he understand what being in Russia meant? Everything that came with it? Yuri stared back and greeted this with total silence instead averting his gaze and began rearranging his papers, attempting to stuff them back into his folder. It would have made him smile if he wasn't aware of how tense Yuri was right now, and he couldn't gain any enjoyment from that. He was writing a note to Yuri, this one was To Morpheus by Alexander Pushkin.

He observed him again, mentally noting everything he had seen so far. "You're really shy, aren't you?", Yuri gave him another look, full of meaning that once again he had no way to decipher. So Yuri did communicate. But not in any way he knew. Clearly he had his own way. That was ok. Victor was willing to learn. And very, very patient. It wouldn't hurt Yuri to attempt to learn a little bit of a new language too since Victor was fully willing to learn Yuri's.

He finished writing his note, folded it and handed it to Yuri. Ignoring his wordless expression of surprise, he pushed the note into Yuri's palm and held it there for a few seconds too long, since he appeared to freeze, until Yuri opened his mouth with "I-"

He cut him off, "Just take it". Yuri finally managed to respond and wrapped his fingers around the note of his own accord. Victor felt the small jolt of current run through him at the point of contact. He knew Yuri felt it too. Yuri opened the note, and looked at it but his face was still blank but slightly warm. Couldn't he read it?

: O Morpheus, god of dreams, till day

grant me relief from love's distress.

Come, blow my lamp out now, I pray,

and my nocturnal visions bless!

Block from my cheerless recollection

the dreadful pain of those goodbyes;

grant me to see her(his) loving eyes,

and hear her(his) murmurs of affection.

Then, once the dark has taken flight,

your power over vision ended,

oh how I wish my poor wits might

forget love till fresh night's descended!

He continued, "Those octopi you were drawing yesterday looked very nice.". A feeling was starting to form within him that he was somehow missing out by not being able to draw. Watching Yuri yesterday, he could see how in some ways it was a much more elegant and elemental form of communication. Communication was something that was important to him.

A faintly muttered,"Thank you" was the response. He appeared to start to calm down a little, at the very least he started drawing again on what he was working on before. He was interested now. He didn't understand the first thing about art but his feelings towards it were changing and now for the first time he wanted to understand it as well as be able to appreciate it and not simply in some abstract, idealistic way. If it was one thing the shy cutie in front of him knew well, it was obviously art.

He let his natural enthusiasm shine through and went for it."Do you like art?" An unobtrusive nod was the only feedback he received. He took it and ran with it to make his main point, "We should work together on our art history assignments!". It made sense after all, he would learn faster if Yuri was willing to go as his companion. The bonus of the possibly of getting to know the intriguing yet silent figure before him was certainly a factor though. Considering he gave no response this time and instead continued drawing, Victor assumed he was less than thrilled with the idea. Maybe if he showed he was serious, Yuri would reconsider."What are you drawing now?" He had tried to make out what it was but couldn't see, so rather than risk disturbing him, he walked around soundlessly to get a better position to view it from as he asked the question. He still couldn't make it out. Yuri tensed up all over again. Damn it. He just thought he had managed to keep him off the edge of being flighty that but evidently it was going to take a lot more than that.

"Please do not do that. I don't like people staring at me as I work."was stated firmly without raising his voice as the hands he had been watching moved to cover the drawing. Momentarily stunned, Victor took count. That was the most Yuri had ever said to him even if it was a massive slam down. He would take it. It was apparent that respecting his boundaries was very important to Yuri and he had just stated what they were very plainly.

He took a breath and did his best not to show any of his current conflicting emotions as he met that last statement with a levelled sounding, "Alright then.". It wouldn't do to let on to Yuri how much this affected him, it would only make him more anxious. Instead, he padded seamlessly to the couch, closer than he had been before and proceeded to sit, resting watchfully. He wasn't going to push any further right now after that. It was Yuris' move.

"Do you know if we have to start going to museums this week?", Yuri asked. That took him off guard. Was he just being polite? Or did he actually want to talk to him? He still couldn't tell. He didn't want this to be one sided but he didn't know how shy Yuri really was or how he expressed what he wanted. He shrugged. Better to keep his attention while he has it, right?

"I don't know, honestly. I wasn't paying attention.". Yuri made a sound of clear disapproval at this. So he did have opinions after all. Victor smiled internally at this discovery. Better for him to let Yuri know upfront that he didn't play well with hypocrites, so he reminded him, "You weren't paying attention either, Yuri.". He watched as Yuri smirked. It was the first time he had seen him display an emotion that was intended to be openly seen by others. He looked kind of sexy with that expression on his face. "Do you have any classes for the rest of the day?" Yuri simply shook his head at the question while Victor wondered what other classes he was taking.

"And yourself?" Yuri asked as he continued drawing. Yuri wasn't looking at him and that made this harder but he was choosing to interact of his own accord, which he supposed counted for quite a lot considering how withdrawn he had observed him to be this far.

"Yes." Not that it mattered.

"Shouldn't you get going then?" was the next question Yuri threw his way. He mulled over this.

"No." He watched Yuri pause briefly at that before continuing. Like hell he was going anywhere. The other part of him wouldn't let him even if he tried. He needed more information, the kind that wasn't easily obtained.

"Are you just going to sit there?" Progress. He was asking of his own accord. But was he asking because he was uncomfortable? Did he not want him here? He supposed he would find out soon enough, if Yuri really didn't want him there, he would probably just leave. Victor winced internally thinking about it.

"Yes."An expression of bafflement passed across Yuri's face in a flicker that was so fast he almost missed it. He would have to keep an eye out for those in future. It wasn't pleasant to be the one of the receiving end of one word answers, was it? He was doing it because anything more would reveal too much whereas Yuri seemed to do it by choice.

He returned to reading. Yuri was still drawing. He felt a bit like a dog on watch, waiting for the human in question in silence. Was this how Maccachan felt? No, he mused. He knew for a fact he interacted much more freely with Maccachan, that was undoubtedly a part of why he missed them so much. This was different.

Tension filled the air, ebbing and flowing but radiating between the two of them, almost as if it was a continuation from the brief point of contact before transmuted into another form. The more he thought about that, the more he wondered what Yuri thought of it. A significant amount of time was passing. He stayed, which surprised Victor. He hadn't expected him to really. He settled in to watch and gather as much information about the laconic artist beside him as he could.

He noticed him tensing slightly and relaxing slightly from time to time however he couldn't tell what it was in response to. He continued observing and ruminating while the other part of him was busy trying to ascertain whether some truly ridiculous things where possible. It had some very defined ideas already, and some of them scared him. 'Stop it', he put his foot down on the utter load of garbage happening internally inside him. _Bite me,_ was all he got back.

It proceeded to torment him for the rest of the time there. He couldn't believe some of the things he was considering. Surely this wasn't normal? It must just be him. He took deep breaths and attempted to recover some amount of sanity. No matter what he did, it didn't help. He spent the rest of the time trying to stop the onslaught of ideas in his head from overtaking his better judgement until they both left.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Thursday, 10 September 2015 – 4:00pm, Detroit, Michigan)**

After the stunt that was this afternoon, Victor had arrived home to take stock. After he got in the door he headed straight for the sofa and flopping down onto it, hugging a pillow while resting his forehead against the edge of it. He just sat there and breathed. He knew he should really run through his stretches or breathing exercises but he couldn't bring himself to do it yet. What the hell had just happened? He wasn't going to think about it now. He committed to calming down.

After 30 minutes of breathing on the couch he got up and started tai chi. He needed movement. Working his way slowly forwards then backwards again by the time he had been doing it for another 30 minutes he was totally calm again. It always worked like that. He went through his major stretches and then thought about practicalities. He still needed to go skating yet today and there was no point putting it off. He changed, tagged his skating bag and headed out the door.

Once he got there he set straight to it. There was no need to warm up as he was still warm from before but he took a turn around to an album he'd just brought with a new song he really liked on it, Hold Back the River that helped him open up; everyone else had latched on to one song on the album while the one he liked hadn't hit the charts yet and remained undiscovered for the moment. He enjoyed having something to himself like that before others got hold of it and overdid it like they had with the first and he hoped it held out for quite a while longer since good warm up music wasn't easy to find. He set out to work on his short program. Right now it was the weaker of the two. The technical difficulty was much higher but he was still experiencing issues. He threw himself into his short.

When he had told Yakov what he was skating to he had yelled at him; it may have even been the most he had ever yelled at Vitya before which was really setting a record. Chris had screamed and then collapsed in a pile like the drama king he was before laughing so hard he cried. He had skated mostly classical pieces or similar styles for most of his career but it was time to branch out and put himself out there. He knew what he was doing and what he was risking by doing this. He'd asked a musician he knew to redo Bloodstream by Stateless, it had been stripped back to acoustics with light additions and shortened to one of each different verse to fit into the time limit of the short program. It was so bare that he couldn't make any mistakes, not only did every single thing have to be hands down beyond perfect, it would be blindingly obvious if it wasn't. Scrap that, he thought, if it wasn't utterly brilliant he was done for. Doing this was the skating equivalent to walking out naked on the ice; it entirely relied on him with no cushioning whatsoever. If he couldn't do that by now then he didn't deserve to be the 5th time world champion, which was what he was aiming for this year.

He understood why they were so confused by the choice. While he'd always experimented with the technical and performance aspects, he'd never put himself out there completely emotionally on the line before the way he was doing this year with both of his programs and that was what had caused the music choice. He'd always kept a gap, enough to connect but not enough to really hurt him if it didn't work. Technical brilliance and great choreo wouldn't be enough, if he didn't put every single piece of emotion he had (and a bunch more he didn't have right now) then it wouldn't work. That was the current problem, the emotion he currently had versus what was needed.

The song spoke to him in a way he was draw to in very few things. But he still lacked the key pieces that would make it complete. He'd run through it 5 times now so he started working on individual sections. His salchows and flips were good, so he went into the loop. All good, with his usual rate of improvement he would peak at the right time if this kept up. The problem was still his sequences then. He cussed and kept working on them. While he was doing it, his mind drifted back to Yuri. What was his deal anyway? He wasn't sure it was Yuri's enigmatic deal that bothered him as much as it was his strong reactions to him. No. Skating. He refocused and checked his sequence and was surprised to find he was doing… better? A smugly muttered, _I told you so_

Damn him. If that was what it was then he'd do it. He used Yuri's image again, keeping it in his mind while he did the opening sequence. It did come more naturally. He continued into the second and then the third. Better still. Urgh. He'd think about the why's later, for now he just kept going. Last sequence. For the first time, he managed to complete the fourth sequence in a way that wasn't terrible. He sighed in both relief and defeat. He continued running it through again, experimenting with things until he was passably happy with the outcomes. Once he'd managed all the sections at least a dozen times, he took a break.

The short program was taking a lot out of him, it was incredibly strenuous. His free would be easier, it relied more on his style and background. He got halfway through before he realised that he couldn't do more today after using that much energy, he'd take tomorrow to work on his free and then work further on his short. He'd just add a longer training session on Saturday to make up for it. He let loose for a bit then proceeded to the ringside to take off and warm down. He didn't linger as he knew there would be multiple people using the rink tonight, he finished and set off for home.

When he got home he started immediately on chicken with all the fixings. Once it was prepped and on he turned around and started going through the apartment. He grabbed a pen and paper and started making a list. He moved from room to room, noting down the things he was missing and what he needed most. A second chair for the bedroom? He needed one to use but he always threw his clothes on the first. Would having a second fix that or would he just cover both in clothes? He shrugged to himself, it was worth finding out and if nothing else the clothes wouldn't end up on the floor like usual. The rest of the bedroom was fine for the most part.

He moved to the study. He definitely needed at least a plant or two. It was still missing something but he couldn't put his finger on it. He missed Maccachan. He thought about getting fish but then dismissed it. It would be too cruel when he couldn't give them a home for longer than a year and they deserved better than that. He sighed dejectedly. No pets. He was going to be even more lonely than usual sharing this space for months on end without even another living creature for company. In the living room, he needed more cushions, a throw and a book holder. The kitchen was the worst. There was a strong likelihood he wouldn't know what he didn't have until he needed it. He settled for what he couldn't live without, the most major items being a few decent pieces of ceramic and glass cookware, a coffee maker and a milkpan. And finding a mug he could stand to look at daily, he noted while casting his eyes over the current options and trying not to stare.

While he was up he walked over to his computer and checked his email. Ah good, Chris had come through already with his to do and shopping lists. It was rather detailed. He'd even found a reputable hairdresser using his truly awe inspiring research skills from all the way from Switzerland, on the other side of the world. Vitya couldn't stop himself from laughing. He didn't know what he had expected but he should have realised Chris would pull out all the stops. He added printer to his own list and then made sure he sent Chris's email to his phone as he wrote down on his own list 'check chris's list on phone'. He was terrible at remembering things.

He got back to the chicken and proceeded to finish it off, rest and plate it. He knew he'd still be hungry after this, he should really consider making desserts on Saturday to keep in the freezer. An athlete couldn't ever afford to not take their food preparation seriously, you either had to do or live with someone who was always willing to cook consistently swapping off. Since he lived alone he had no choice but to do it himself. Most people though it was weird when they found out he cooked but after so many years living on his own and having to teach himself, he had learned to enjoy cooking. It was that or starve and not compete. Store bought processed food was even more expensive and never met their nutritional requirements. He dug into his chicken with currents, vegies and mixed greens. If nothing else he was glad he had got the jus right this time.

He sat back after he was mostly full but still finishing and pondered. He didn't feel like doing anything tonight. He knew he was just going to read until he went to sleep. He needed to get serious about attending classes since he could only miss so many. He cleaned up quickly and went to shower. While he was in there he stopped to check what was going on. He still wasn't being honest with himself over most things leading to his arrival here. That meant he would he writing everything out in his journal tonight before reading even though he had no idea how he was going to attempt to word half of it. He stared at the shower head. Getting out, he dripped across the floor and grabbed his journal and started. By the time he finished, he only had about an hour left with Bely's book.

When the time finally came to turn out the light, he was still bothered abet incredibly tired. He started to drift and somehow in the middle of that, he must have went to sleep with one of the many questions still on his mind. How did he explain leaving Russia to someone who knew nothing about him without sounding crazy?

Friday had arrived. He got up early and went through the motions, he had an early class today. He'd attempted to talk to 3 people this morning and been brushed off by all of them. Only the barista at his coffee shop wasn't like that so far which was a blessing in disguise since he would inevitably end up spending copious amounts of time there either doing assignments, writing or reading.

He was in class now and sat through 21st century literature with relative ease. He didn't struggle with academics, provided he paid attention and simply did the work it was never that difficult for him to not end up with a good mark. The problem was whether or not he paid attention. He couldn't force himself to pay attention no matter how hard he tried if he wasn't interested in something. He'd always been like that and people hated him for it. They were warning about a major assignment coming up as the class started to slowly end, that they needed to choose a new book that hadn't read before for it. He had no clue what he was gong to use. That was the downside of reading too much, he supposed. It was an odd problem to have compared to normal people but a problem none the less.

He looked at the rest of the class, most of them looked suitably worried but probably for another reason than he did. The girl to his left was tapping her foot repeatedly, like she was nervous. He caught her eye and whispered, "You too?".

"What?" She looked confused.

"Worried? About the assignment?"

"Oh," she paused. "Yeah, I guess so. It's not exactly going to be easy, is it?" She looked worried still but now he had the feeling it wasn't entirely about the work. She was quite pretty and her red hair was vibrant. He smiled to himself. Then it hit him, maybe she didn't want him to talk to her? Did she think he was trying to hit on her? He was horrified. He'd better make sure to get back on track.

"I'm going to have a hard time finding something I haven't read yet. Do you have any recommendations for me?" She looked up and then started to giggle at him.

"Is that what it was?" Okay. Now he was confused. It must have shown because she followed it up with "Sorry, I just saw you making all these faces before." Oh god, how embarrassing. He fought the urge to hide his face in his hands.

"That happens sometimes when I'm thinking about literature. Don't worry, it's pretty much the only time it happens. See?" He intentionally and dramatically set his face straight back to deadpan instantaneously. "Back to normal!" She started laughing for real this time. It drew the attention of some other students.

She noticed the looks and drew back. "You're funny" she murmured to him with a small smile still on her lips. "Sorry I was being stand offish before. It's just that most people here have been here for a while, everyone already has friends, groups and is dating or whatever by now for at least a year and normally two to three. You see how they all are arranged around each other?" She pointed out.

He looked around the room more carefully and realised she was right. Most people were sitting in groups and those that weren't were with their friends. It was just the new students and some international students like himself that were scattered here and there, almost obscuring it from sight unless you were hyper aware or already knew what was happening. He was stunned. How was he supposed to make friends then? He looked over at her. She was apart too. Did she not have any friends in this class either? "Is it always like this?" He asked as he continued to inspect the room.

"Yeah, pretty much" she replied. "After first year people are pretty set, they keep expanding during second but that's generally when they decide they have enough friends and don't need any more." He grimaced. He had hoped that this time around people would be a little more mature considering they would be older or that America would be a little more open when it came to this. He sighed. Chris was going to be unhappy even though it wasn't his fault and there wasn't that much he could do about it.

He looked at her, assessing her carefully as he asked, "And you?". She blushed rather exceptionally which was proceeded by a host of different emotions flitting across her face quickly, one after the other. Once it stopped she appeared to be gouging something, almost like she was arguing with herself. He felt bad for asking but he hoped she would be honest. Just in case he added, "It's ok. I can handle it."

She cast her eyes over him one last time and appeared to make a decision before looking down at her notepad. "I just transferred here this year from interstate. It's a big change. So, yeah, I don't really have any friends here." She laughed. "The only people who have talked to me so far have been guys hitting on me." He winced. That couldn't be fun. She saw him wince and clarified, "I didn't mean you. You don't seem like that."

"Oh no, I wasn't thinking about me. I was just thinking how crap that would be. Moving that far and then the only people who bother to talk to you are only doing so because they have crass intentions. It would be tough." He wondered why she had moved. Maybe if they had enough classes together he would find out.

"You're an unusual one. Most people don't think about that. Not guys anyway." She sized him up. "I'll take the tough compliment though, you seem like someone who would know since you are yourself." He almost sat up in surprise. This girl saw too much. Instead he intentionally relaxed further and took a breath before looking back at her. She continued, "Am I wrong? Judging by your accent you're a lot further from home than I am."

He went back to fiddling with his pen while smiling internally now he was over the shock. She was feisty and had spirit. He liked that. She reminded him a bit of Mila from back home, one of the few people he enjoyed being around. They had the same natural warmth. "Russia". He ought to give her an answer as a reward. "I'm doing my grad here." He should probably give her more than that, "The experience is proving more educational than I expected in ways it wasn't intended to be."

He looked up to find her ginning. "Let me guess? You didn't think you'd be stuck with people behaving like it's still high school for half the time?" He laughed. She wasn't wrong.

"Yeah, that." She looked at him in sympathy.

"It's because you're naïve about people's intentions. They aren't all kind like you are. Other things motivate them." She was good. He knew this but it was still difficult to remember constantly and apply on a daily basis. He didn't understand why they would intentionally make their own lives and that of everyone around them so much harder in that way. But when you had more than he did, the way they all did, perhaps that's what you did. You took things for granted and prioritised. She spoke up, "We should help each other in class at least. If nothing else it will be less boring."

He smiled at her, a feeling of hope slowly filling him for the first time in a long while. "I'd like that. But do you mind me asking why?" He didn't think this kind of interaction was normal. But then again he didn't know much about normal.

She had gathered her books and she tossed her head back as she stated, "I like you. That's all the reason I need. Besides, you already asked for my help." She smirked at him over her shoulder and started walking towards the door. He was still sitting there slightly flabbergasted. At the door she stopped and called back to him, "About before, try Kafka on the Shore. You'll love it."

He jumped up and yelled, "Thank you!" with entirely too much enthusiasm and could feel that it was most likely his happy but dopey look on his face as she left. He could hear her chuckling in the hallway as she walked away.

That night he didn't bother with much. He felt like going out but couldn't since he didn't know anyone here. When he was younger he would have said fuck it and gone by himself but when you were his age that had worn off considerably, you got sick of the scene and the people it attracted. Tomorrow he knew he was going to be busy all day, so he decided he'd rather have a few drinks and finish his book. Today had been kind of a whirlwind and he didn't remember much of his afternoon class, he'd spaced during that one and that would inevitably come back to kick him in the ass later.

He laid back on the sofa with his cider and thought about practise today. It hadn't gone badly. His free skate was coming along and it was the undoubtedly the stronger of the two programs. The song had been a good choice. Rather than the song as the foundation which was what a skater usually used it for, he was the foundation and the song was what was meant to shine. It was a bit strange, but to him somehow it felt better this way. The song was an original composition from the same group of music students he had worked with when he was younger, some of them were grad students or professionals now and they were very good. He'd given them a detailed idea to work with and they'd come through magnificently. He made a mental note to talk to Yakov about everything in detail tomorrow.

After he had just finished, he'd stumbled across the mystery skater again. They must have reserved the practise time at the rink directly after his. He always finished early because he didn't want to keep anyone waiting. He'd watched them for a little while, not long. Maybe 10 minutes? They had beautiful form. There was something in that skater that he didn't have. It was exactly what he needed that had been eluding him so badly which is what he required to pull off his short program. He was determined to figure it out. As he watched he notified the differences, taking notes in his head one by one. He couldn't see who they from here. Whoever they were, they were incredibly sexy without ever trying to be. What really caught his attention were their music choices, they had great taste. When they finally started to their routine with the music it was amazing to behold.

He didn't know how he had never seen them before. Surely they must compete? He knew most people of this caliber, he had known most of them for years. The nameless figure full of fluid grace had skated across the ice with the natural expressiveness, emotion and flow that he had always lacked. They didn't skate to the music so much as they simply somehow **became** the music. He wasn't going to be able to forget this. As he had turned to go, they called out. He had heard them this time and waved as he was left, a sign that his visit hadn't harboured any ill intent. It was better not to show his face. Even now, hours later, something about that encounter stayed with him.

He sighed. He should really think about how the hell he was going to pull off art history. He knew nothing about art. He'd tried researching earlier but he had no foundations or starting point and didn't know what was what. He wasn't used to being so completely out of his depth like this. Even when he found things he liked, he didn't understand how they fit into the wider picture. He didn't understand art period. It frustrated him. How could he understand skating so easily but not art? He understood literature. Ballet. Classical music. Why was art defying him? He had to get a handle on it soon, he was supposed to go to a museum every week, choose and describe a piece. He allowed that he had spent most of his life studying the other three but he had never studied art.

Maybe it was the way he was doing it. He was the kind of person who learned by doing the thing in question. Reading about it or seeing it wasn't necessarily enough. It have him a basis but it was only once he started doing something that he began to understand it. Did that mean he was going to have to start doing art? He supposed he was. God, that was daunting! How did one just start? He can't remember the last time he drew that wasn't doodling in his notebooks. It was a truly terrifying prospect. He didn't have to tell anyone, he reminded himself. He could just do it at home and never show anyone. As long as it meant he passed this class. _And the rest._ It was back.

He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer to whatever it was, that tomorrow went better.


	5. Chapter 5

Haru: This should really probably have been two chapters but I had to mash them together to keep pace, so I apologise for that.

* * *

 **(Saturday, 12 September 2015 – 9:00am, Detroit, Michigan)**

The weekend had finally arrived. Victor turned over and still asleep, habitually threw his arm out to hug Maccachan to him. When his hand couldn't find fur, he woke up. His heart sank. He didn't try to fight the feelings, he just breathed deeply. He shook his head and got up to shower. Once dressed, he started on breakfast whistling tunes as he went in an attempt to regain some equilibrium. Coffee would have to wait until he left the house. He sat down to breakfast and tried to plan while he ate. His first agenda today was fulfilling his shopping lists.

He left the house and set out, it was going to be an extremely long day. His views on shopping were conflicted. On one hand, he found it tedious and annoying when he didn't particularly feel like it but had to do it; on the other hand when he was in the mood and had something he really needed it could be super fun. Today was looking mostly like the former so he compromised by making an agreement with himself to buy some fun new clothes, his wardrobe needed filling out a bit. He stopped to caffeinate and grabbed a newspaper, it was likely a good idea to check that the rest of the world hadn't devolved into World War III or something while he hadn't come up for air. He didn't put anything past his ability to completely block out the rest of the world by accident especially when he wasn't coping well.

He walked into a homewares store first. He picked up sheet sets and pillow sets in his preferred colours and went to check out throws and pillows. Before he got there he spotted a blanket he liked. It was faux fur. As much as he hated to admit it that might feasibly help when it came to incidents like this morning. He grabbed it and added it to the pile along with another one that was properly insulated. He moved on before he got too crazy, he adored blankets. They almost made his top 20 list of best inventions.

He walked over to the pillows and decided on colours. He had to make a decision now. Was he still going with dark aqua and a shade of like green that wasn't too bright or light? He chose safely and went for dark aqua and then grabbed two more than were different colours on each side, almost lime green on one and charcoal on the other, it would tie in nicely. He eyed the throws and started going through them. It took him a while but he found one that was astonishingly detailed, covered in intricate patterns and had a great palette, it was essentially a work of art all on its own. It didn't look western at all. It was more expensive than he had planned but it was much higher quality than he had expected; he was in love and he was taking this back home with him when he left Detroit, no matter what. He hugged it to him and started looking for a chair.

He found them a fair way over and stopped to think. There wasn't much here. A sleek, black modern one caught his eye. He could probably fit a gigantic amount of clothes on it and that was all that really mattered. He picked up the box and started heading to the counter. After putting it down, he spotted plants. He asked them to keep his stuff there while he finished and the girl agreed easily. He walked over to the plants and started thinking.

He really wanted herbs but that was pointless without something to feed them with. He spotted some funny but beautiful flowers he wasn't familiar with in different colours. It was too late, he had fallen in love with the purple one that had all three shades he liked with little yellow spots as well as the burgundy that ran to dark crimson with the same yellow spots. They looked like they'd do well indoors so he checked the tags. Orchids. He didn't know much about them but he was confident with plants, he'd figure it out. He got both and started looking for a pot that was large enough that he could keep them together in.

What he really wanted was Loosestrife like they had back home but they didn't have any. No wisteria and even if they did it was too big to keep indoors. He looked around for a suitable substitute. If he couldn't have colour then he would settle for scent instead. He followed his nose and found a strange type of jasmine he'd never seen before. That would more than do. He should probably get at least one green plant but the only one that appealed to him was the dwarf bamboo. He was out of his element totally with these different kinds of plants, this wasn't Russia. That was the point, he reminded himself, he was here to branch out. He went with both his finds, if they died then he'd find something else. That was when he spotted the small water features that were clearly meant for indoors. He had to get one. It would help him sleep. He found a small one that wasn't obtrusive and headed to the counter.

Next up was the kitchen store. He worked his way through that one quickly, he knew what glassware and ceramicware he needed. The milk pans were harder to find but eventually he located them near the coffee, along with the large tea strainers he would need with them. Coffee makers were another matter altogether. Usually the electrical ones were expensive and didn't work well. He wanted the old stove top soviet style ones that were almost unbreakable and worked great as long as you cared for them but took experience to use. He finally found them hidden away in the bottom corner, clearly they weren't popular here. He snorted. Americans didn't know what they were missing. He went to hunt for mugs. Again, they didn't have much. He found sleek, gently squared, matte black elegantly shaped ones. He picked them up and felt them. They felt nice. He liked things he could fiddle with. Good, he was done.

He had to stop himself from skipping as he left. He was finally free to go to the bookstore! That was the other part of his compromise. He needed a new journal, he'd run out in his other one and was just storing loose sheets in there at the end that he'd have to transfer to his new one. He was just using it out of habit. He had only ran out recently so there were only 35 pages or so he had to transfer. It was best to buy a new one now before that number increased any more. He went straight to the journal section and started looking. He preferred moleskines. He sorted through them and found a few he liked. He didn't really appreciate the covers though. He wondered if recovering them was worth it. Yes, he decided, when it was this big it was. Besides this year was important, it felt different and he wanted something that reflected that. He remembered he still needed to get Kafka by the Shore so he made his way over to the fiction section. On the way he spotted an interesting contraption; it appeared to be a book holder, but a soft one. Brilliant! He snagged it immediately and continued. The book in question was fairly easy to find. He wanted to spend some time here but he really couldn't today which totally sucked. Something caught his eye on the way out the door. He plucked it up and flipped it over. Time to take a chance. He left with all four items and continued on the days' quest.

His only other stops now were at a beauty store where he picked up everything from Chris's list. Then an electronics store where he nabbed a small, thin portable printer for his schoolwork. The fabric and craft store where he took his time to pick out suitable materials for covering his new journal which he'd do in the next few days. Lastly, he walked into a department store. It was time for some real fun.

His wardrobe was arranged so he didn't have to think about it, clothes were in set categories of either neutral staples or versatile statement pieces. He needed some new things of both though, it had been a while. The first thing he spotted were a pair of shoes that he loved. He got the size right and totally forgot the price tag. The salesperson assured him that brand was a very popular shoe brand built for a lot of walking and could stand up to hard use. He didn't really know what timbs were but these were black, small and could be used as either daily footwear or going out in smart causal and he was pretty sure they were going to be his new favourites.

After that he made his way to the decent shirt section. He picked out a few, one in a serene aqua that brought out his eyes if he needed to impress anyone, another that was a warm white patterned with reddish florals although he couldn't tell what they were. Cherry blossoms, maybe? They were modern and cool and he liked it. He found a fuchsia-purple shirt that he was happy with. And then a red that was a two third sleeve. He checked out the pants and found less here that he liked. He grabbed a pair of khaki chinos, a new set of really dark jeans in a really great cut and then a pair of dark grey pants that looked halfway like dress pants and halfway like smart causal. He found some new yoga pants for around the house too. That was probably enough for today. The only other thing he stoped to get was a dark t-shirt, he had never seen a cut like that back home. He'd save it as his one good t-shirt.

He picked up coffee, his usual food restock and everything he needed to make multiple desserts on his way home. He looked at it all, this was actually a lot of stuff. It was already lunchtime now. He needed to get home so he could FaceTime Yakov and Chris before it got too late for their time zones. As soon as he got home he dumped everything, bit the bullet and called Yakov. He loved Yakov but he wasn't looking forward to this call. He knew he'd still he pissed at him.

"Vitya!" Yakov's grumpy face appeared onscreen. It was late there but he could see Yuri and Mila in the background, she was saying something to him and he was exploding and yelling back at her. He laughed, clearly nothing had changed there. That made him feel oddly better. It also explained Yakov's mood, Yuri was a handful at the best of times.

Hi, Yakov!" He gave a huge smile and waved. "It's so good to see you again!" Yakov looked like he had just choked on a spider he discovered crawling down his throat with how surprised he was at this greeting.

He shook off his shock and sullenly started, "Going to America was irresponsible and foolish! How am I supposed to coach you from here?" He paused, with a murderous look on his face. He clearly wanted to keep yelling but he knew he didn't have that much time and it was pissing him off even more. "Tell me everything! And don't you leave anything important out."

Victor complied. It was better not to push him. "I ordered my costumes. They've sent back designs to ok and I wanted to show them to you first." He picked them up one by one so Yakov could see them clearly. "The red jacket suit is for the free program. The very dark grey with shades of red and bits and pieces of gold here and there running through it is for the short program. You can only see the mauve, burgundy, crimson, raspberry and antique gold highlighted when I turn and the light hits it and reveals the pattern section by section, so it won't be too busy or distract too much." Yakov looked them over, squinting at them.

"The suit will do. It's for the opera song?" He nodded in confirmation. "I can't say if the other is a good idea. It does look too busy but if it works as you say it does then it will be too bare." Yakov was clearly unhappy with it but he couldn't tell if he was still taking out his frustration of that song choice on the costume, which was likely.

Vitya amended, "it only shows strongly when the light hits, it will still show slightly in low light, it just won't be overwhelming." Yakov hrumpfed. He knew that was as close as he was going to get to consent. "Do you want me to send it back and tell them to redo it?"

He finally acquiesced with a grudging, "No. It'll do. There's no point changing it this close, they will have started making it already. The pattern is worthy if nothing else." That was true but as he very well knew it certainly wasn't too late to change details or final additions, especially to the outside top layer that people would see. The fact that the pattern was right meant a lot coming from his mouth. "What about you? Have you made progress since that **thing** I saw in July?" He cringed slightly at that.

"My free program is well on track. And I had a big breakthrough this week which keeps building, and I think it will continue to do so even more. I can do this, Yakov. I'm landing everything and I'm timed to peak for the series. I'm pushing hard on that one from now on, now that I know what I need. It's only my sequences in the short and they've been improving all week." Strictly speaking that was true. And he was going to be pushing the hell out of himself from now on out. He couldn't skate by on natural talent like he usually relied upon and he was well aware of it. Yakov assessed him carefully to see how much of this was the truth and if he was trying to hide anything.

"Fine. But if I get a message from Chris saying you're anything other than fine, you're coming back home. You have 3 weeks from today, when that Sunday rolls around, I want both of those programs taped and sent to me and only me, privately. Nobody else. Got that?" Vitya nodded meekly and gave a small smile. "If you need anything, help with any of it, you call me immediately!" He barked out.

"Thank you, Yakov!" He would have hugged him if he was there. Yakov was essentially handing him time to get this in shape himself before he took over. It was more than he deserved and he wouldn't have done it with anyone else. He was grateful Yakov was halfway like a father to him right now, this was the trust he extended to him because of it and because he recognised his own skills and experience. He grinned and enquired, "How's Yuri?" Yakov cussed loudly.

"Too much like you!" He glared at him. "You're a bad influence!", Victor cracked up laughing and couldn't stop while Yakov started cursing again, causing Yuri to take notice and start yelling at Yakov instead. Yuri didn't need any influences to be impossible, being himself was more than enough.

All he heard was "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME, OLD MAN?!", and with that Yuri was skating towards them at full speed. He pulled up dangerously close and fast with his blonde hair flying around his face and glared at Yakov before he noticed Victor on FaceTime. He turned on Vitya instead, " WHAT ARE YOU TELLING HIM?! YOU KEEP YOU MOUTH SHUT!" and gave him a look that would have frozen mountains solid. Yakov was exploding beside them for pulling such a dangerous stunt but they ignored him completely.

"Me? I wasn't saying anything, I was just busy getting yelled at by the old man." Yuri looked disbelieving. "Then I asked how you were, kotenok" Yuri sniffed in consternation.

"You left remember? What do you care?" He somehow managed to make him snapping sound like a lashing. He was grinning internally but he couldn't show it without setting their kotenok off so he kept his face blank. He did care after all.

"I always care about how my favourite junior is doing." Yuri rolled his eyes but he could see him soften against his will, as he spat to make up for it. Yakov yelled at him this time. He held a hand up to stop Yakov yelling and said "I need a minute with him. I'm fairly certain he has information I need." When Yakov didn't move, he added, "It's about the upcoming series. And yes it will affect the competition." Yakov muttered obscenities to himself the entire time and slouched off, now yelling at Mila instead to get her butt back out there. "So? Really, how are you? It's been a while."

Yuri eyed him contemplatively and skated closer. "I guess I owe you for getting the old man off my back." He chilled and looked down. "I'm ok. Giga is good. Potya is better than either of us." Vitya smiled brilliantly.

"I'm very glad Potya is. I miss her very much." Yuri stared at him and clearly wanted to lash out again but he couldn't whenever people were being nice to his beautiful ragdoll cat, Potya. She was really a sweetheart but very loyal and she only tolerated 5 people and he was one of them. She was his favourite feline. One day he would like to have a cat like her around. "And your Giga too. Even Mila actually." Yuri's Giga was a special man, everything a grandfather should be. Not many people got that lucky but he was all Yuri had.

Yuri's head flew up as he exclaimed, "What?! What are you doing going soft on us now, geezer?!" Vitya laughed. Maybe, he thought.

"Maybe." He smiled. He watched Yuri mime being sick to express his disgust but he could see he was pleased underneath. "But, on a more serious note. You know more than almost anyone else we know about younger skaters or those older than you. I think there's something brewing." He explained to Yuri about the mystery skater, that he had no idea who he was but that someone of that caliber was probably coming to this series or at the very least the next. "So do you know who it could be? Are there any skaters that talented based in Detroit right now?" Yuri had listened patiently, intrigued with his face hovering between blank and screwing up repeatedly.

He stared hard, thinking. "Let me get my phone." Now he had a mission, he was all business. He raced across the ice and was back before Vitya had blinked three times, phone in hand. He went through his phone in front of him, frowning intently. Finally he looked up. "There are some skaters in Detroit right now, but not many. Your most likely candidate is Phichit Chulanot.". He brought up a photo of him. There was a young, small, bright eyed Thai boy looking back at him from the screen. He frowned. That didn't feel right.

"Tell me about him. You're sure there are no others?"

Yuri started to shake his head slowly. "He's skating under Celestino with a very small team of other skaters. There's only a few who show any real promise. Khoudia is a contender for the women's singles this year. Phichit is the one with the most talent and potential that's competed and performed well consistently so it wouldn't surprise me if he makes a run for the GP this year. If not this year then definitely next." He sighed quietly. "There's one other I've noticed before with them but his performance record is spotty. He has the ability but you never know if he's going to come through in a competition or blow it, he's competition minus and unreliable so I can't say I think he'd attempt the GP or that he would be the skater you're looking for." Yuri finished and looked more morose than usual.

Victor thought it over. "I don't think it's Phichit, but I'll do some research to he sure. He doesn't seem the type to do the style I saw." He frowned. "How likely is that there is another skater in the mix that we don't know about?"

Yuri thought carefully. "At this stage, I'd say 50/50. There's a lot of movement in America between rinks, cities and coaches internally, and then almost as much with the internationals. Someone could have moved and we would have no way to tell." Yuri looked curiously at Vitya, he'd never seen him like this before. "You're really worried about this, aren't you?"

Vitya smiled. "Kind of. I haven't seen potential like that since I met you. This one is special but it seems they're still finding their feet. Even if they don't manage to do that this year, they probably will next year or the year after and become a real threat. That will be a problem for you too, you'll be in the seniors then with us and they'll definitely give you a run for your money." Yuri looked indignant all at once, probably offended that Vitya thought anyone could be a threat to him. But then his expression changed, doubting. Vitya was surprised he'd been so distracted that he'd forgotten to snap back to that comment.

"No." He murmured to himself. He looked like he was in turnmoil. Yuri looked up at him, vulnerable all at once. "I have a notion but I need to look into it. It won't be easy cause if it is them, they aren't crazy active on social media like most of us. It won't be easy to find information on them at all. I may find nothing." Vitya frowned at the younger skater. This was very unlike him.

"Someone you know?" He queried.

Yuri exhaled and looked down at his feet to avoid his gaze, "Not exactly. More like someone I looked up to. They're older than me. When I was younger I paid a lot of attention to them." He didn't smile externally but on the inside he couldn't stop grinning. Yuri? Was a fan of someone? He was happy about that, most of the time it seemed Yuri didn't look up to anyone at all.

He smiled warmly, "Please. I would appreciate it. I'll owe you candy for a month."

Yuri met his gaze straight on back at him, "I'll hold you to that, geezer. And you'd better win or the old man is going to have a heart attack and I'll have to kick your ass." Victor snickered and Yuri took that as an agreement. "Hang on, Mila wants to talk to you. She's been driving me crazy since you left." He must of meant it because he was grimacing. Right on cue, Mila skated up, and hung herself all over Yuri, hugging him. "Get Off, Baba!" He yelled as loud as he could while he struggled to throw her off him and failed. She was still stronger than him. Vitya didn't try to hide his laughter.

"Vitya!" She looked happy to see him.

"Mila! I miss you!" He couldn't stop grinning today, it seemed.

"Awww, you are so much nicer than your kitten.". She pinched Yuri's check them let him go, skating out of reach before he could lunge. She was fast.

While Yuri yelled at her and struggled he called to her "Hey! Let me talk to you for a sec!"

She skated over to him while Yuri swore revenge and then was called away by Yakov. "What's up? It's not the same without you here." She laid her head on her hands and tilted it to look at him. Of everyone there, Mila was the closest to Yuri and knew the most about his day to day life.

"Yuri just mentioned something strange. Do you know anything about a skater he's followed since he was young?" She giggled uncontrollably.

"Oooohhhhhh. You mean his crush. So you finally found out?" Vityas mind blanked. **Yuri's.?!** **Crush.?!** He stared at her, dazed.

"Yuri… has a crush?" He stumbled over he words as he they came out. He couldn't believe what his ears had just heard.

"Oh yeah. For years now. I tease him about it all the time." She smiled angelically. "Honestly, Vitya, you can be so dense." She stated it like it was nothing. He choked.

"Do you mean, he has a skater where he admires their style and what they can do and wants them to succeed? Or do you mean… he has a **crush** **crush**. Romantically speaking."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it's it started out as the first and then evolved into that last one and now it's just a big tangled mess of both. It has been for a while. It's why he hadn't been able to let go of it. Not that I blame him." She giggled again.

"My kitten… all grown up… with his first crush. Oh god! How did I not know about this?" He demanded as he put his head in his hands. Mila continued laughing at him.

"You're off in your own world so often that you don't notice half of what happens with us." She pointed out. He put his head down and clutched his hair on the table. God. HOW HAD HE MISSED THIS?! He looked up at her, pleadingly.

"What do I do?" She just shrugged.

"What can you do? It isn't like he's running off around the city getting into trouble. Actually, I think it's been good for him. It gives him something outside of himself to focus on that isn't just about what he does and how far he can push himself. Something that matters outside of skating. It gives him hope and keeps him going." She looked at him directly, "You of all people should know how important that can be."

He sighed. She was right. The last thing he wanted was Yuri falling into a black hole like he had at a similar age, especially with no real support system. They had all come together, Mila, him and Yakov, to ensure that didn't happen. They were almost their own family, truth be told. Almost. His Giga gave Yuri a link outside of that but was also a reminder. They'd semi integrated Giga into their almost family anyway, they all liked him immensely. "Face it, Vitya. Your kitten is growing up. He'll be almost grown soon. You should spend time with him while you can, this is the most important time for you to be around."

His face was back in his hands. "I know. I will be back as soon as I've sorted this out somewhat. I didn't want or plan to leave him like this."

"I know you didn't. Just come back soon, ok? We all need you here." He nodded dejectedly. Mila laughed. "Don't look so depressed. If any fun stuff happens, I'll be sure to let you know. Not too much will, I don't think." He was glad Mila was there. She was halfway between a friend and an older sister to Yuri. She kept an eye on him but also stayed close enough to know what was going on without trampling all over his personal space completely, which was a feat since he didn't really allow anyone too close to him.

He tried to smile and kind of failed. She giggled at him again. "I'm glad you're with him, Mila. Really." He out was open for once with his emotions.

"I'll take care of him" she promised. "But it's so cute to see you torn up like this! Ah! And I can't even tell anyone!" He snorted. They both knew she'd tell Yakov although she'd have the good grace to wait a few weeks first. Yakov would think he was getting exactly what he deserved.

"I have to go. Take care Mila." He blew her a kiss.

She grinned and made a kissy face back. "See you! Text me!"

"I will." He promised. "Make sure you update me on everything, including your routine and Georgi." She winked. He signed off.

Oh god, his head hurt. He hadn't even talked to Chris yet.

He fell back onto his bed and situated himself. Once he was comfortable he FaceTimed Chris, who picked up immediately. "Crisu!" He exclaimed in gratitude. Chris instantly blushed a deep scarlet and smiled shyly at his favourite version of his name.

"Vitya!... I thought you'd forgotten me." He too, was in bed, only curled up on his side hugging a pillow and resting his head on another one.

"Never! I'm sorry. The others kept me for far longer than expected. There were some… issues." Chris was smiling now and probably imagining what kind of issues. Not that kind. He sighed. But he was going to talk about that kind too tonight because he needed to talk to someone. "But really and seriously, how are you?"

"I'm good. I'm thinking about making it official with that hottie. He's managed to hold my interest for once." Vitya raised his eyebrows in surprise. Anyone who could hold Chris's interest for a reasonable amount of time was truly a catch. He was overjoyed for his friend.

"When?!"

"Next week." Chris had a blissful look on his face. "It requires some planning to get right."

"I bet." He murmured. "I wish I could be there."

Chris started laughing, "You REALLY don't want to be there!" He was right and he lost it. They stated laughing at the inevitable mental images for several minutes before coming back to earth temporarily.

"And your programs?"

"They're going really well. I feel like I've been reborn. Ahhh! New love!" Vitya settled down and gazed back at his friend. His mood was rubbing off onto him and he was sharing in Chris's blissful excitement like they were a pair of teenagers. He felt like he was half about to burst. It had been a while since Chris had a serious partner.

"I can't wait to meet him! And see the programs." He smiled fully.

"Vitya, you know the rule. We only show programs at events." He rolled his eyes. He knew but he still wanted to see now, he couldn't help himself. He was incredibly impatient when he was 'all up in his feelings' as Chris called it.

They messed around for a while until both of them felt better, Chris filled him in on what had lead to the latest escapades. It was all very entertaining but for once he was kind of glad he wasn't there, he wasn't sure his heart could take it right now on top of everything else.

"You seem different." Chris commented as he rolled over further. "Care to explain?"

Vitya looked over and then away. "I don't know how to explain." Chris waited patiently but twitching all the same. His twitching meant he was holding back comments and he could imagine what kind. He knew he had to answer. He messed with his pillow. "You know that student I texted you about?" Chris nodded a confirmation. "Ever since I met him, I feel… weird. Unsettled. Restless. I can't stop my thoughts from ruminating. And other things too." He didn't think he could tell Chris about the other voice that popped up from time to time.

Chris set himself back and spoke carefully, "When did this start?" That he did that was a sign he knew this wasn't normal for Vitya.

"When he stared at me in class." Vitya confessed. "I can't get that moment out of my mind. The way he looked at me… and the look on his face, just him in general really." Chris looked intrigued.

"He hit on you?"

"No! I mean, maybe? I don't know! I don't think so?"

"Okay." Chris held up a hand. "Describe it to me from the start without leaving anything out like you were an outsider watching."

"I was sitting in class and he complimented my hair just out of the blue? But then he seemed embarrassed that he had? The delivery was very strange. I tried to talk to him after that but he's really shy. I don't know what he wants or why he did it. When I tried to talk to him next he seemed uncomfortable; he could have left but he chose not to for quite a long time even after we finished speaking. I don't know what any of it means."

Chris considered this for a while. Before asking, "And how do you feel? About him? Around him? The first thing you said to me about him is that he was beautiful."

"I-" He stopped. He thought carefully. He wanted to be honest. He knew Chris wouldn't judge him but this was new to him. "I'm not sure. I texted you before I had tried to talk to him, when I was still struck by that moment." He continued very slowly, weighing each word with careful consideration, "He's not beautiful… he's gorgeous. But he feels completely out of reach. I feel like trying to reach him is like chasing moonbeams. That I could try forever and never succeed. And that terrifies me."

Chris was very serious now. "I've heard you spout a lot of shit when you're doing your lit thing but I have never heard you speak this seriously about anyone before, let alone in this way." He met Chris's gaze and dropped his mask. Chris's eyes went completely round when he realised how miserable he was. "What else are you not telling me?"

"It feels real this time. Like I can't turn away from it. Not even if I wanted to. But it also feels like if I don't succeed, it will destroy me. I honestly can't tell you what would be left." He took a breath. "'I know you're used to being a drama king but this isn't me being one or swinging wildly due to moods. It's not just some strong passing emotion either or an impulse. It came and it just stayed, it settled inside of the pit of my stomach and made its home there. It feels like it's intwining itself with me as it grows. It hasn't changed since it arrived." He cuddled his pillow. He felt extremely vulnerable right now. He hadn't said those words or written them or even thought about it. He'd been avoiding even thinking about it because he didn't feel equipped to deal with this.

"Honey," he looked back up. "I can't say that I can relate because I can't. I've never experienced something like that. But I can tell you if that's how you feel and you don't at least try and give this your best shot, you're going to regret this for the rest of your life." Vitya shoved his face into his pillow and groaned loudly.

"You don't understand," came out of the pillows, half muffled, before he flipped back and snuggled deeper into his new silver fur blanket for comfort. "I have to see him this week in class." This didn't seem sufficient information so he supplied some of the rest, "I've been dreaming about him or falling asleep while doing so. His face in certain expressions sometimes just pops into my mind for no reason. I can't skate properly without thinking about him, in fact at this rate my entire short program he going to be based on him, for him." Chris clapped his hand over his mouth and squealed. "No! It hasn't even been a week! I'm not allowed to be this much of a mess!"

"The heart wants what the heart wants, honey." Chris was smiling and practically bouncing in glee. He glared at him and momentarily wished he could turn him into an icicle with a single look. Chris wagged a finger at him. "Don't give me that look." He fell back, pouting and glaring at the ceiling simultaneously. "Vitya". He grumbled in response. "Tell me this, have you touched him yet? If you did, what happened? How did it feel?"

The moment he gave him the last note flashed through his mind. "Not properly." Not that he hadn't wanted to. "I gave him a note. He froze up and couldn't take it, so I pressed it into his hand. When I touched him… it felt like electricity running through me at that point." He turned back to Chris. "What does that mean?"

Chris was smirking. He wished he wouldn't. "When you sat with him after that, was there tension between you two?" Now he paid complete and utter attention.

"Yes. What does that mean?"

Chris laughed gleefully. "It means you're attracted to each other. He was reacting to it as well?"

"Yes." Vitya paused. This seemed too good to be true. "Are you saying… he was attracted to me?" The mere thought sent his pulse racing. It had to be wrong. Why would someone like that ever like him? He was eccentric, overaffectionate and a total mess.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." He couldn't believe what he was hearing for the second time today. Chris was probably just biased. Or he'd given him incorrect information. Or they were both reading into this too much. He was in shock and not processing things properly.

"Let's hypothetically go out on a limb and suppose that's true... what am I supposed to do from here?" He would struggle and fail at comprehending this for later.

"What do you want to do from here?" Chris had an uncontrollable grin on his face. He lived for things like this. Now he had mentioned this to him, he was going to be like a dog with a bone, sticking his nose into it every time they got together.

Dozens of things flashed through his mind. Most of them were so corny they would probably make Chris scream. "I can't put that into words." He couldn't think like that this soon. What he wanted was impossible and likely a total overreaction. "I want to get to know him, if nothing else. I'm not even sure if I could stop myself from trying that at this point." That was undoubtably the truth.

Chris leaned on his elbows while resting his face in his hands. "So what's the problem?"

Vitya sighed loudly. He struggled to find the words. "He's shy. But not like what you normally mean when you say shy, this is a whole other level. Trying to get a response from him or read his reaction is difficult to impossible. I have no idea what's going through his head most of the time. He doesn't trust people at all and seems to actively avoid them whenever possible." He considered, "I don't know how to draw him out or what would be a good enough reason in his mind to even bother to talk to me or spend time with me." That summed up most of what he had perceived so far adequately.

Chris thought it over. "So even when you talk to him, most of the time he doesn't really talk back to you? Vitya nodded. "Wow, that's tough." He thought for a moment."How would he react to someone like me when I'm just in my regular mode?"

He had no idea. "I can't honestly say I know. But I fear that if I did that, like we do when we're together, is that he'd just be overwhelmed. It would probably make him anxious or worse. He might be different with you if you went gently and not full on like usual." Chris was concentrating intently.

"But you have a class together?" Vitya nodded. "You think that won't be enough because of how withdrawn he is?" He nodded more vigorously this time. "The same class you have museum trips for?"

He saw where he was going with this. "I already asked him to come to the museum with me. He didn't respond. I don't think he's interested. He likes art but apparently he doesn't want to go with me. Which is a pity because I have no clue about art and I need someone to teach me and he clearly knows a lot."

Chris made a distressed sound. "Try again. If you have to go for class anyway you should press the advantage. Play the damsel in distress if you have to."

Vitya deadpanned. "It's not playing, I am in distress. Without help I will likely fail this class."

Chris started laughing uncontrollably, "well, anyone who doesn't fall for the Elfin Ice Prince in distress is clearly out of touch with reality!" Urgh. He hated that. Chris had jokingly been calling him that for years but then the press had overheard one time and now the media actually referred to him as "the ice prince" as a nickname. He would never forgive Chris for that one.

He sobered up when he saw Vityas face. "Oh come on, love. He'd be crazy not to want you. I know you're clueless but you have to realise how hot other people think you are."

"HOW CAN I BE HOT WHEN IM GOING BALD?!" was the only response.

Chris howled this time for real. He'd have to think about soundproofing so nobody thought he was keeping a wild animal locked up in here. But it was true, his hairline was receding. So much so that he had a shiny spot now on front that you could tell where his old hairline had started if you were familiar with that kind of thing.

Once Chris managed to get ahold of himself, he choked out, "Trust me, it doesn't work like that." Recovering fully, he continued, "You are still attractive and will be for many years to come. The only reason you don't realise it is because of your very mixed up relationship history." He laid there silently. That much seemed true. Girls had thrown themselves at him purely due his reputation and status as a skater. When he was young he hadn't realised that and had been crushed to find out that was the only reason again and again. It was all they cared about and that bothered him immensely so he had stopped dating altogether. He had never actually connected with anyone before.

Chris spoke up again, "Anyway, please, give it your best shot tomorrow. For me?" He looked at Vitya pleadingly with puppy dog eyes. Vitya couldn't resist laughing lightly at that.

"Fine. I'll do my best. But I'm pretty sure walking into this shouldn't feel like I'm about to walk into battle."

"But it does. At least when you're serious about someone." Chris realised what he'd just said and he backed up. "Wait a minute, you're saying you're there already?" It seemed it had finally dawned on Chris what he'd been telling him all night. "I've never gotten there before."

"What do you think I've been trying to tell you all night?" He cast his eyes over his friend."Why else do you think this is such a problem for me and why I've been an unspeakable mess even worse than usual?" Chris sat up.

"Ok then, in that case. I solemnly swear to do whatever I can to help you. Vitya waited for the joke but when he looked up to see Chris completely serious and crossing his heart.

After everything today he was emotionally overwhelmed and needed release more than ever. It was already 2:30pm. He went to practise and spent the next six hours skating relentlessly, working on every part of both routines and using it to process his feelings. By the time he was finished he was so completely exhausted he was surprised he didn't drop on the spot. He had to rest tomorrow which was a good thing because there was no way he could have been capable of training tomorrow after that. It would pay off next week though. He mentally noted that he should do extra long sessions every Saturday from now on.

It would take that much.


	6. Chapter 6

Haru: After now the updates might not be as frequent cause I go back to work and practise full time on Monday and I'm still trying to fix some issues with 8 & 9 that are still unresolved. So there's more but the schedule might not be exact. 

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**(Wednesday, 16 September 2015 – 8:45am, Detroit, Michigan)**

Sunday had been his day off from everything. Sundays were the day he could eat whatever he felt like and when he tossed aside all responsibilities. He'd spent the day fixing up his place properly with all the things brought so it was finally liveable, recovered the journal and fixed his hair according to Chris's to do list. He'd made his favourite spurge foods and made a bunch of desserts that he put into the freezer. It hadn't been eventful but he had needed the time and space alone without being beholden to anyone. Monday and Tuesday he had spent catching up fully on all his schoolwork and had dedicated himself to his classes and training by attacking them, as if in doing that it would solve his other problems. It didn't, but it made him feel better.

Today was Wednesday and he was already on his way to class. He was nervous but felt more stable than he had last week. He was determined to listen in class today, he needed to pass this class badly. He leaned up against the wall a few doors down from his class and tried to mentally prepare himself for battle. Once he was steady he walked down and into the class. His eyes found Yuri instantly as soon as he was at the threshold of the door, he was already drawing. He smiled to himself to see it. He really did love art. Time to do this. He spoke before he could back out, "Hey Yuri."

Yuri looked up at him and seemed slightly bewildered at first but then stopped drawing to wave at him. 'Progress' he thought. As he walked to his seat beside him, he glanced down at what Yuri was doing. It looked very strange to him. He hadn't wanted to comment but once again he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be. Was this a cultural issue? Last time he couldn't recognise it either. He thought of the things found in Russian folklore and concluded that someone who wasn't Russian would definitely struggle to understand those things when they were illustrated if they were unfamiliar with it. He would have to find out Yuri's background at some point so he could do some research on tradition and folklore in order to comprehend things like this better but he didn't want to make it feel forced or make Yuri uncomfortable by asking him needlessly.

He took his seat while looking Yuri over and assessing him for major changes and opened with something non scary and strictly observational. "I see you're drawing again." Yuri just nodded. He had a feeling that was probably going to be one of his favourite forms of communication. He supposed it was better than none at all. He decided to take a chance because this was driving him crazy. "What's that supposed to be?"

He saw the flicker of a frown but it was gone again instantly. "It's just a sketch of The Lantern Ghost". He made a mental note to research that later but he'd probably forget. Instead he took out his notepad and quickly wrote it down on the last page where he could easily rip it out later. "Who made that?" He regretted his phrasing instantly since it marked him as knowing absolutely nothing about art but it made the point.

Yuri replied almost automatically like he didn't even have to think about it. "Katsushika Hokusai." He had no idea who that was so he wrote it on his page of Yuri Notes. They might even be able to double as art notes, he should try to find out more considering it might help him orient himself in that world. It seemed that world and Yuri's world naturally overlapped anyway.

"And that is…?" He was struggling with the spelling as he stared at his notes but he did the best he could, sounding it out slowly in his head and praying that the language was phonetic.

"A Japanese painter. My sister loves him and Hiroshige." He had no clue about that person either. And he hated himself for it. Why didn't he pay more attention to the rest of the world? He cursed at himself internally. He wrote that name down too with question marks beside it since he didn't know what pieces he should be looking for. But he pondered about Yuri's sister. Was she the one who had introduced him to this world that he'd so clearly fallen in love with? Yuri added to his original answer, "I doubt any American museums here have any of his work, but it's on a lot of websites." He knew what he'd be doing tonight then. But it was somewhat unusual for museums here to have nothing. He wondered about that. Yuri's face had lit up unconsciously while talking about this. He answered that more openly and using more words without needing promoting. He felt his insides becoming warmer.

He couldn't see himself avoiding it now since it was relevant so he tried to be as gentle as possible and phrase it the right way as he asked, "Where is your family from?" He didn't want to make assumptions. But between his sister and the art, it clearly was important.

"Japan." Victor just sat there quietly and tried to digest that in its entirety. He thought of everything he knew of Japan. He honestly didn't know all that much. Just some very basic things he'd gleaned growing up like where it was located, the total population and the national language. He knew almost nothing about Japan's culture or way of life. Internally he was now scrambling. How was he going to attempt to bridge a cross cultural divide when he knew nothing about that culture? Sure, they were both in America so that meant they could meet halfway, go by American norms or carve out their own path relatively free of cultural norms. But the reality was that culture had a way of creeping in on your most basic assumptions without you even realising it as he well knew from years interacting with others in international competitions. It would still be immensely difficult when he didn't know what the starting point was of how Yuri thought about even basic things due to his own ignorance. Through all this, Yuri had just continued to draw. He was grateful for that but he still needed answers. He squared up. "You never answered me about working together for this class."

'Please say yes' he thought to himself. "Well, you didn't ask me a question." He stared at him. Was he for real? He was going to use a technicality against him? So Yuri really didn't want to go with him then. His insides twisted. 'No. You're not allowed to give up. You promised Chris you would give this your best shot,' he mentally gave himself a pep talk. He had to find a way to do this. Yuri had seen him staring disbelievingly and justified, "Also, I'm not really very interested in working alongside people. Sorry." Seriously? He hadn't asked him to work alongside him.

Clearly he was intent on something he hadn't thought through, so Victor went full steam ahead, using enthusiasm as his first line of attack, "Well, when we start going to museums for class, we should go together!" Yuri drew back slightly and chewed his lip. Vitya wondered if he even realised he was doing it. Probably not.

"Didn't I just say that I didn't want to work alongside people?" Yuri asked. Another flicker, this time he couldn't identity what it was but he got the general gist. He couldn't tell whether the question was rhetorical or not but he suspected it half was. If Yuri wanted to play like this, he was going to lose. Vitya was well aware he was an overemotional mess of a person pretty much constantly but one thing he managed was to be reasonable most of the time. He glanced sideways at Yuri and pointed out the flaw in his logic outright.

"Do you really consider going to a museum with someone 'group work'?" He had never mentioned working with Yuri. Of course they would work separately. They had homework but would likely choose different pieces which put an end to any 'group work' by default. It was only going together he was suggesting. Yuri had stopped drawing and seemed slightly tense. Victor thought this was a good time for him to clarify, "All I'm suggesting is we just go together. Once we get there, we can spilt up and go our separate ways" he amended that in his head to 'if you really hate being around me that much'. But he had given him a choice. Yuri could, of course, choose to stay with him but he never mentioned that, he wanted Yuri to be free to choose that of his own accord without pressure, if he was so inclined. Yuri had frozen and was staring straight ahead, eyes unseeing. He hoped he was alright. 'Please' he sent up a silent prayer. "So what do you say?"

He was scrutinising him alertly so he caught the flock of flickers that crossed his face in incredibly fast succession that were rather different from one another. Another form of communication. He was going to pay particular attention to this one, it told him much more than anything else did and Yuri seemed completely unaware that he was doing it so he never tried to conceal it. It was the only honest and unaltered feedback he was going to have access to consistently from him. Then Yuri opened his mouth, "Fine. When do you want to go?" He was so overjoyed that he almost snapped his pen in half clutching it too tightly. He loosened his grip with difficultly and made sure none of it this was showing on his face. Yuri had paused after he had spoken this to the head of the student in front of him and now he refocused and went back to his drawing.

He thought quickly. He hadn't actually expected him to accept which meant he hadn't thought this part through, so instead he just tossed out whatever came to mind that might give him more time with Yuri unhindered. "This Friday? We can meet at the deli?" Friday's were a day you could be expected to be out longer to begin with so neither of them would be hurrying home. And a trip to the deli might result in much more time with Yuri if they stopped for a drink and a bite. More nodding. And more flickers. He still no idea what he was thinking but he wanted to know a great deal. Would simply asking work? He thought not but it couldn't hurt to try. "You look pensive."

Yuri hit back almost instantly with, "And you talk a lot." Pffft. So he was talented at deflecting impressively quickly. He wouldn't forget that. Vitya started laughing, he couldn't help himself. Like Yuri gave him any choice! He barely bothered to open his mouth and when he did actually speak, he was curt. He was still smirking, thinking if Yuri really wanted to play the silent game with him then he would. See how he liked it really.

He got back to the point. He needed to ascertain more about Yuri if he were to spend any real time with him on Friday without it being unbearably awkward. That meant he needed more time with him and more information. It was a bonus that during that time, Yuri might become more accustomed to his presence. He seemed like the type that took a while to get used to being around someone before they were comfortable. He searched for opportunities, "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"I have class." So he would be on campus. Good. He couldn't ask him to do something like lunch together, that would be too intimate and unfounded. He settled for what there was already a precedent for instead.

"Will you be in the library tomorrow?" Last week had been a disaster but he was perfectly willing to do more disasters if that's what it took. Hopefully less disasters, but he'd take what he could get.

"I will. After class." Jesus. He really was giving him the barest minimum, but the fact that he gave Vitya anything when he didn't have to betrayed some amount of interest; it was now a definable pattern. He was so overjoyed that he laughed, the way Yuri communicated interest certainly was so unusual and unexpected that it was amusing. "I don't understand what's so funny?" He wouldn't, Vitya thought wryly; he wasn't on the receiving end of all of this."I have a question though."

That was out of the ordinary. What kind of questions did Yuri consider important enough to ask despite his shyness? With the way he had been gazing at Vitya since he said that, he was willing to answer anything. Yuris' eyes were busy melting his insides and making it hard to breathe. "Ask away."

"Why do you look so different in the pictures I've seen of you?" Urgh! God no! Please! Anything but this. He was screaming in horror internally. "In the last magazine interview, you looked really different. What changed?" GOOODDDDDD. Kill me now. He struggled internally. He couldn't tell Yuri the truth truth. He couldn't tell him he was going bald! He would rather die. He wrestled with himself extensively before settling for the rest of it that was still true but without that critical part. It was the best he could do. He desperately hoped his mask was good enough to conceal his emotions, he'd had plenty of practise after being in the public eye for so many years but it was in personal situations like this he sometimes slipped up.

"Well, I grew out my hair some more and finally started trying to sleep like a normal person. After all, my age is starting to catch up to me now." He didn't mention the crippling insomnia either. Or why it was there. But the undeniable truth was that his age was definitely catching up with him. "Does that answer your question?" A nod. "I'm glad to have answered you effectively." Bloody hell, if not he didn't know what he would have done. He tried to forget it, which wasn't hard as Yuri was still staring at him the same as before but only now, somehow even more intently. He felt himself falling into the molten liquid that was Yuris eyes. Screw breathing. He didn't care if he died. He wasn't coming back anytime soon. He drifted temporarily in bliss.

His bubble was popped incredibly rudely, by Yuri stating, "You're looking at me funny." He wasn't sure he had heard right but he wiped his face on his sleeve to make sure he wasn't sweating – he felt like he was. He felt hot and bothered and it was all Yuri's fault. And now this. He narrowed his eyes at him. He had **started** it!

"Am I now?" He pretended to be clueless since Yuri was refusing to own up to his part in this. He did not appreciate this at all.

"Yes, you are" Yuri said earnestly. And you're not? Yuri was starting to betray that he knew what this was.

"How am I looking?" If Yuri was going to act innocent, then he was determined to make him say it. 'Suffer' he thought, 'you started this'. And he deserved whatever he got, too.

Yuri went scarlet, or as close as he could to it. "You're giving me bedroom eyes. " He finally got it around his tongue and said it. He waited for the rest, for it to click that Yuri had been the one to start making 'bedroom eyes' as he called it. He wanted an apology for this or at least a show of remorse. He kept his gaze on him until he gave it. Instead all that he got back was, "This is very awkward." He had to stop himself from hissing. So Yuri wasn't honest with himself? Or was he being intentionally dense? Fine, he could play at that too.

"I am not giving you bedroom eyes, Yuri." You. Little. Hypocrite. Both of them were now completely red to the ears and he could feel the heat in his face and see it in Yuri's. He was so mad at him that he could spit.

"Mm-hm." Instead he pretended to play it cool. "Do you know if the professor is coming today?" Yuri shrugged at him. A moment later she walked into the room. He was still wild over what Yuri had pulled so as he thought to himself, if I talk too much then you can have your silence and see how you like it for this lesson. He needed to concentrate fully anyway. He proceed to take perfect notes and pay full attention for the rest of the lesson.

Class had almost ended. Vitya had stolen some glances at the giant pain in the butt that sat across from him. Yuri had been watching him even more but hadn't broken Vityas sustained silence. Either he really didn't care if they didn't talk or he was good at acting. Vitya thought he did care because he watched him more than anyone else in the room. He was pleased by that but not enough to set things back to zero after what Yuri had just put him through.

He was writing him another note anyway, one he was sure wouldn't give away his mood. He knew Yuri was drawing again now. He smirked to himself. He finished the note. It was The Sweetheart by Rumi, it made sense considering what he'd been dreaming about almost every night. He looked over it, folded it and passed it to Yuri, being conscious not to touch him this time. He mimed him to open it. And watched as Yuri did so:

: the sweetheart

who is blocking my sleep

demands tears on my knees

throwing my silently

into the waves

changing the water

to liquid sweet

He watched Yuri look it over and then slip it back into his binder. Was he even reading them? Could he not read them? Vitya was almost seething again before he realised; he'd have to get curious at some stage. Even if he wasn't reading them now, that couldn't last forever. He'd have to read them at some point. He was interested enough already as demonstrated by today that he would be keeping them and not throwing them away. He smiled to himself. He wasn't mad now, he'd got his point across and he would win in the end. He was in this for the long game.

Class ended with the teacher officially assigning them their museum homework with the due date as Wednesday.

Vitya stood up. He had been sitting for too long and felt the urge to stretch but suppressed it. It was one of many things he was suppressing these days. "Did you read my note?" He asked Yuri. He knew Yuri hadn't. He'd see if he would be honest; if he wasn't he'd find his tells for when he was lying.

"I'll do it later." He mumbled the words. He went with honesty. Vitya smiled. It was a good sign. He could have easily chosen to lie but he didn't. In that case, he was in.

"You should give me your number." Yuri looked stunned, so he quickly clarified, "So I can text you about Friday." He hoped he actually remembered what he had just agreed to earlier. Was this what people felt like when he forgot things he'd agreed to? It was horrible. He promptly swore never to do it again. He watched Yuri put his stuff in his bag and pull out his phone as he started to do the same. If Yuri had lied then he would not have asked for his number, he had seriously considering it after that little episode but he supposed one was allowed to make mistakes, or be dense. It was that together with lying that really would have worried him. He had another opportunity here and he was taking it. "What class are you going to next?" He asked this as he exchanged their phones so they could enter in each other's numbers more quickly. He got done fast.

He still had no idea what Yuri's classes where. Or more importantly, what his major was. He wanted to know rather a lot at this point. He'd been stuffing down that curiosity for a while too. "I have Math," was Yuri's succinct reply. He certainly sounded far from happy about it. This confused him for a moment.

"Oh so you're a math major?" Yuri shook his head. He relaxed at that. Thank god. "No?"

"No" Yuri finished inputting his number and handed Vityas phone back to him. He fought the urge to snag his fingers for a second.

"So what's your major?" He hoped Yuri had picked something in line with who he was. It wasn't the best to go based on what others wanted but many people did and regretted it later.

"Graphic design." Vitya didn't fully understand what that was. He knew it had something to do with art, but he was unclear about the specifics. As long as it was art adjacent though he was happy for Yuri. But also confused, as right now, Yuri was taking off towards the door.

Then he suddenly he stopped and turned back to face him. "Aren't you coming with me?" He had to pick up his jaw from the floor. Did Yuri just offer him an invitation? He grinned hugely, put his head down, shoved the rest of his crap in his bag and clumsily caught up as fast as he was physically capable of. He walked with Yuri, not saying anything but enjoying his general closeness. It wasn't too weird but there was still that tension there. There was some kind of unspoken understanding now at least.

They continued walking shoulder to shoulder quietly while Vitya took in everything he could. From his messed up hair from him resting his head in his hand, his gait, the way he moved and most of all his facial expressions. Yuri was self conscious but was watching Vitya closely too by his standards while trying not to be obvious. Vitya had the urge to chuckle. Yuri hadn't mastered watching people from his peripheral vision, clearly he was very new to it. He knew he was blushing again lightly but he was mostly relaxed even though his stomach was threatening rebellion over being so close to him.

They arrived. He saw Yuri slow and pause and he turned to face him. He should probably make up for his temper before. He knew his eyes were doing that thing again. He started in a lower voice than usual, shyly but warmly, "It was really nice talking to you, Yuri." He meant it and it showed, it had certainly been enlightening. Yuri looked careful and embarrassed but pleased. He just nodded again, he didn't look capable of talking right now. Vitya continued, feeling wistful but poignant which showed in his voice, "I'll text you later, I suppose." He didn't want this to end.

"I suppose this is a 'bye' then." Yuri had pucked out of the air between them what he couldn't although there was a small constellation in that he didn't look happy about it either.

"It is! See you!" Vitya was not fully in control of himself and it came out too enthusiastic again. Whoops. He didn't know if that last one was in English or not. Oh well, he'd have to get used to that if he spent any amount of time around him since he did it whenever he got too excited. He watched Yuri walk into his math class after one more look between them. He didn't leave until Yuri was completely out of sight. He turned and went home. He was indescribably happy but now he also felt the rawness and loneliness more than ever.

When Victor got home, he set out straight for training. Since last week, every session had gotten consecutively better. Today was focused on his free and somehow even that had new life breathed into it by the current whirlpool around him that was currently his life.

When he got home he should have gotten dinner ready and started on his evening chores. He thought about it but couldn't bring himself to do it. Rather than bother, he just grabbed a shake and showered, he didn't feel like anything else. Instead, he went straight to his journal. He had found material that was too different shades of silver, subtle but they stood out from each other with a nice design separating the shades. He ran his hands over it now and inspected his work. Nobody would be able to tell he'd recovered it. He was pleased. He'd already transcribed his loose leafs into it so now he turned to a new page.

He attempted to describe today. Thinking about it, he realised there were so many parts he couldn't even put into words. Was this why people drew? He thought of the way Yuri had been gazing at him today. If he could put that on paper accurately, it would be worth more to him than an entire book. Words would never work for that. Drawing might. He'd picked up a sketchbook on his way home today because his teacher had given them their homework today so he'd known he would have to start. He eyed it furtively. Maybe it would help with the images haunting him, but he wasn't sure he could accurately capture them. He wasn't confident in his ability to draw. He hadn't been bad at it when he was younger but he'd never really tried or applied himself to it in order to find out either. The fact he could concentrate on intricate details when something was interested him might save him and mean he could do it passably well. Maybe. It was still a huge risk.

He turned back and started on his journal entry. This one wasn't easy and it took him a while to finish it. There were things he'd had to leave out. These he made into a list of in a tiny personal notebook that he carried with him everywhere. The entire time he'd been journaling, he'd felt the uncomfortable weight of the sketchbook, like it was looking back at him. Calling him. It was late now. He looked over his list of things he'd left out. There were so many. Before he knew it he was adding more from other days. This was now an art ideas list without him even meaning it to be. But there was one that wasn't from today that he couldn't turn away from. The first time he had seen Yuri. That moment haunted his dreams constantly.

Before he could double think anything he pulled the sketchbook towards him and the new materials he'd got with it and just started. Then he stopped. He didn't know how to start. He thought about what had struck him most that day. It had been Yuri eyes. He would start there. He started in the very centre, keeping the memory in his mind perfectly as he worked. It was still fresh, with every detail complete. He worked around Yuri's eyes, starting in the centre and working outwards. Shading slowly as he went, going over it multiple times where he had to. And then the other. They were half done. He worked outwards slowly from there, outlining major elements and filling in details gradually, his eyebrows, his hairline, the sides of his face, his nose. Then his hair, his ears and his mouth. It was slow going. By now, he had Yuri's eyes half done, and all the major events drawn out in semi detail. It looked like him. He just needed to fill it in. There was something missing. He though about what had made the biggest impression and realised it was everything, all the details lining up so exactly. He got back to work.

He didn't really know what he was doing but at this point he didn't care. He had just finished his eyelashes which had been hard and then started on something even harder, the small muscles around the eyes which are what truly controlled most people's expressions. They took forever but once they were done, he went back over the outside of the eyes and then managed to finish the eyes themselves. He moved to the eyebrows, which turned out to be easier. Then he moved onto the nose. He didn't really know how to shade this properly so he just felt it out slowly with his instincts. By the time it was done he didn't hate himself which was a good step. He moved down to his mouth. This was going to be hard. He went over this slowly, unwilling to make mistakes on one of Yuri's best features. It took him almost as long as the eyes to get it right. He did the Cupid's bow slowly, there was a small sense of peace starting to creep through him but that other feeling that had been driving him was still there, insisting he finish. He worked on the cheekbones, chin, jawline and then neck. He started to outline the shoulders and clothes and did them partially. Then he went back and decided to finish Yuri's hair properly. It took an immensely long time. And he had to go over some sections three or four times. He was tired but he kept going. Hours later, he was still there, still going. He never made a conscious decision to stop.

When 3:30am rolled around, an almost perfect sketch work up of the first time he had seen Yuri after Yuri had spoken to him to compliment his hair was sitting on his desk, while Vitya had half collapsed beside it over his work, having fallen asleep there after almost but not quite finishing.


	7. Chapter 7

Haru: So I've just spotted all the cleaning up I have to do on what's already published. Please bear with me.

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 **(Thursday, 17 September 2015 – 8:00am, Detroit, Michigan)**

When he woke up on Thursday morning, he couldn't believe what he had done. He stared at the page. He would deal with this when he got home. He got ready for class as quickly as he could and left.

Today was some kind of special hell. Poetry, which was usually his favourite class, he couldn't sit still through. He couldn't stop wiggling, even though he was sleep deprived, he had way too much energy. Why? When he went to Novel and Genre, his second class of the day, he was still a mess. He paid attention anyway and collected all the things he had missed last week which since it was mostly an intro session wasn't much, thankfully. He sat there trying to work out why he was such a mess.

He'd brought all that stuff for his apartment for a reason. He knew once the term really started inbetween school, training and competing he would barely be able to do basic chores. He was like that, if he was writing, everything else in terms of running a household tended to go straight to shit. When you added reading and skating on top of it, it was inevitable. And now art, he added mentally, any creative pursuit did that to him, having three on top of school and reading was going to ruin him. He'd paid so much attention to setting himself up because he hoped it would help him be able to keep his head above water when things ended up in that state. He'd done that so he'd feel grounded. Right now he didn't feel grounded, at least not enough. He had no real ties here, no anchors, nothing to keep his head straight or reorient himself around when things started going off.

Class had ended. He got up and walked out still thinking. Back in Russia, he had Yakov, Yuri, Mila and Maccachan, along with Chris who kept in contact as best he could. His life was bare back in Russia, it was one of the reasons he'd left. There was nobody really close to him. He'd had his books, writing and skating and that was really it. Here, who did he have? Nobody. He didn't really have Yuri, that was just a pipedream. He had Chris who still tried to stay in contact but that wasn't the same as having someone around. He was walking across campus and down the street to the nearby shops. He thought of the red haired girl. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would end up being a friend, but that was still a big question mark. That was really all he had here and he knew it wasn't going to be enough.

He walked into the art store and asked for advice on basic supplies. The staff helped him figure out what he needed after he said he only wanted graphite in different grades, erasers and fixer. While he was there, he started going through things he could cover his sketchbook with. After a while, he found something in a simple yet elegant purple pattern that would work. He nabbed two more sketchbooks and enough of the bookcover to cover all three of them. It was a start.

He was walking down the street when it happened and he snapped. That was it. He couldn't stand it anymore. He was going crazy. He needed something to come home to every night. Specifically, he was going crazy without Maccachan, he couldn't stand the thought of months on each here with nothing and no one like this last week had been. He couldn't get a dog, he knew, he didn't have time for one and he couldn't get one for the however many months he was here. But he could volunteer to foster or rehabilitate a rescue animal, whether it was a cat or wildlife, as long as it was soft, furry and didn't need daily walks. He looked it up on his phone and called a taxi, giving the driver instructions to the address.

A woman greeted him at the clinic and asked how she could help. He explained his limitations. She smiled mysteriously before asking him, "You seem like a dog person. Is that right? Have you ever had a cat before?" He admitted that he was indeed a dog person, and that he had never had a cat although he liked them reasonably well. She laughed at him. She turned to him and said "Follow me". She led him through the back, all the while still talking. Cages of all kinds of animals and wildlife filled each side. "So, it's not a good idea for us to give you a cat if you haven't had one before, they do take some adjusting to. The same is true of kittens and kittens also take up a lot of time which I'm sure isn't right for you right now. But we do one have resident I think you'll really hit it off with." She had the same funny look on her face as before when she said the last bit.

They walked through to the end, right at the back. There was a larger cage there but he couldn't see what was in it. He looked at her. She just smiled again and said "This one is here for rehab. One of their legs was caught it a trap and it was broken. They've started the healing process well enough but it was a big break. We set it clean but they're going to need two months at least with someone and nobody suitable has come through until you." She gestured towards the cage, "They don't have a name as they were semi wild, but they're probably at the back. Take a look."

He bent down to the cage. There, nestled in a basket with a blanket, a fox was curled up with a cast on its back leg. It looked sleepy but was quickly waking up now he was there. His eyes went round, "A fox?!"

The woman continued, "I know, it's unusual. But foxes aren't all like what they're made out to be in fairy tales. They like to play with you or with toys just like dogs do. They're very cute. Tame ones are often very affectionate. It's a bit like having something around that is half way between a dog and a cat. They have a lot of the good qualities of both. This one has been getting used to people and has never misbehaved, they've been very gentle. Once you get to know each other I'm sure you'll like each other."

He regarded the creature curiously. It was slowly getting up and making its way to the front cautiously, sniffing in his direction. He held his hand out slowly to the bars and the fox gingerly reached out to sniff him, touching him gently with its soft nose after it did so. They were looking at each other. He asked her, "Is it ok to let them out, to see what they do or if they like me?"

She beamed, "Sure! No problem," and then moved to undo the door. They moved out of the cage slowly, looking around. The woman handed him a ball with holes in it. "That's their treat ball. It has a maze inside it to give them more exercise and stimulation but we haven't been able to give it to them yet. Try it." She handed it to him. He took the ball from her and rattled it to hear the sound. The foxes ears pricked at the sound of food and they took a few steps closer. He rolled it towards them but not too far. They took a few more steps forward and then after checking the humans weren't making any sudden movements, came over to check out the ball. It didn't take the fox long to figure out the trick. Vitya watched as within minutes, the fox had placed its front opposite paw to its injured leg on the ball, and was moving it around almost expertly in its attempt to get the treats out. It succeeded in a bunch at once and that made Vitya laugh. The fox looked up at him at the sound and after they had finished eating, made its way towards him. He just sat there and let it sniff him all over. When it was done it came and nudged his left hand. He went to touch its head slowly and started scratching which resulted in it making a strange sound. "Don't worry," the woman assured him. "That's one of their happy sounds."

He asked her, "What do I need to know?" Their fur was surprisingly softer than he had expected it to be and looked to be in good health.

She looked very surprised but replied, "Not that much. They eat a mix of things, like rabbits, birds, mice, or fish. They also eat some insects, mostly grasshoppers, crickets, caterpillar and beetles. They like fruits and berries too. Some like nuts occasionally in small quantities, this one likes cashews and pistachios. Just don't feed them grains is the main hard rule. We've been feeding this one mostly a mix of things like rabbit, duck, quail, chicken and different types of fish or crab with a raw egg once or twice a week but they'll essentially eat most meats with veggies, fruit, berries and grasses from time to time. They don't like to have their bed, food or water near each other so you have to separate those out. There's not really much else you need to know. Oh, yeah, their favourite is cherries but don't give them too many, just as treats only and not the pitt."

He looked down at the fox again. It had curled up against his leg and was making humming noises constantly with the same happy sound from before intermittently. He smiled. It might take a while to get to know them, but he was in. "I'll do it. Can you get me a list of the things I need?" The woman beamed brightly.

"I'm so glad!" she gushed. "We honestly didn't expect anyone to want them so we had prepared to keep them here. I've already got everything, a proper bed, toys, blankets and dry food we ordered in especially for them. You can just take it all. You can take enough rabbit and chicken for the next few days too. Of course I'll get you info sheets on feeding. They've had all their shots, of course." She was practically bouncing on the spot and he laughed her.

"That's great!" He really meant it. But he had been more concerned about something else, "but how do I get them home?"

"Oh! We have a carrier bag we use for really big cats and medium sized dogs. You'll have to bring it back tomorrow but I can lend it to you." He grinned and nodded. "I'll be right back!" She hurried off and came back a few minutes later with a carrier large enough for the fox that was made from sturdy material.

Thank the gods, he thought. And then he said, "Thank you so much." Taking a fox home in a taxi was going to be strange enough for one day. She smiled at him and then helped put the fox in the carrier before rushing off to get all the other bits and pieces and the paperwork. She explained it all to him, that this was only a temporary arrangement and he agreed and signed it. He thanked her profusely for everything and then caught a cab back to his apartment.

This was how he ended up at home with a fox sitting in his living room, regarding him curiously from their soft mostly enclosed den across from the sofa he was sitting on. He had no idea what he was going to name them. He had a feeling they was male. He squinted at him. "Nika?" It was probably something they both liked. He'd find out soon enough. The foxes ears pricked at the question. "Any objections?" The fox just gazed back at him with the tip of its tail moving slightly. He took that as a no. "Nika it is then. Well, Nika, you'll be staying here as a guest with me for a while. I'm sorry about that but apparently both of us require the others assistance right now." Nika just looked back at him and then put his head back on his paws. He often talked to animals, they understood more than most people thought they did.

He left Nika alone to get settled in, he'd need the time on his own to familiarise himself with the apartment and he'd probably feel better exploring if he wasn't there. Instead he went to get his mail since he'd been putting that off for a while. He headed downstairs to the entrance where the boxes were. He had only seen a handful of his neighbours and most of them lived on other floors and weren't that friendly. He couldn't people watch from his apartment either, it wasn't in a position to allow that. He finally got downstairs and went for the mailbox.

He inserted the key and turned it. The box didn't open. He frowned and tried again. And again. Had they given him the wrong key? He tried it a few more times with no success. A voice called out, "They're a pain. You have to do it exactly the right way." He turned around to see a woman who had just walked in the entrance. She was very short with light mahogany skin and short, very straight inky black hair. He couldn't really tell how old she was but she seemed mature. It was the black leather jacket she wore like it was nothing that caught his attention most. "Try it again. This time, put it in, turn it all the way, then turn it half a turn back, jingle and then pull." He followed her instructions exactly, and it worked instantly. He felt like a tool.

"Thanks!" He said. He was still surprised but he was happy she had helped, otherwise he had been about to make a fool of himself by finding the building manager and telling him he was given the wrong key. "You're a lifesaver." She laughed at that. He thought he had seen her before.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, I was going to ask you if you needed a hand when you walked in before with both your arms full but thought you might not want to be bothered by anyone. Your expression was quite intense." She was half smiling at him. He felt himself relax and he got out his mail.

"Yeah, I could of used the help. I was just trying really hard not to drop anything, that would have been bad. Do you live here too?" He could feel her still assessing him but for once he was fine with it.

"I do. Third floor. Do I want to know what you were carrying before?" He hesitated at that.

"Uhhh, probably not to be honest. Fresh rabbit meat among other things. And I'm on the fourth floor." He didn't want to alarm her. He looked through his mail quickly. There was nothing important there.

He saw her amusement but she was too kind to say anything., "Your English is very good. Are you a student? My niece goes to the university nearby." When he ran his eyes over her more closely, he realised she was probably in her late thirties at least but it just didn't show. The only reason he picked it up was by her quiet but utter self assuredness. Her accent was there but his ears weren't attuned enough to pick up a location. She'd clearly been in the States for a while.

He felt himself blush. "It's probably from all the reading. Yes, I am, I'm doing my post grad there in literature. It's probably the same place your niece is at. What year is she in?"

"Third year," she replied. "But she was a transfer and it's been a big change, that coupled with that she's a few years older than most of the third years." She smiled fully now, "Also I have something that you're going to love. Come with me." He was curious now. He closed the box and followed her compliantly. For some reason, he trusted her. As she opened her door, she said over her shoulder, "don't worry I won't keep you long."

He laughed, "It's fine. I have nowhere to be." He walked into her apartment a few steps behind her, and the first thing she lead him to was an immense bookcase. He could hardly contain himself and he just stared in wonder, gaping. It was even bigger than his collection back home. "Oh my god! Are all these yours?" She watched his reaction with pleasure.

"I knew you'd be able to appreciate it. And yes, they're all mine. I've been collecting them for many years now." He started to focus and actually look at he titles. There were a lot in Spanish that he couldn't read. And at least half were in English. There were a few in the top left corner in another language entirely, one he didn't recognise. He spotted Paz and then Neruda.

"You have Neruda!" He was barely stopping himself from jumping in excitement. "He's one of my favourites!" She laughed openly at him this time. There wasn't just Neruda, there was Garcia Marquez, Ballatin and Carpentier. She had a dizzying array of styles and genres here but similar themes ran through many. "You like Bellatin?" This was extremely rare, very few had read his work and many didn't appreciate it.

She was smiling and picked up one of the books. "He's one of my favourites. A modern day miracle. I'm just so glad there's someone out there celebrating people like us." He stood stock still. Bellatin wrote frequently about all kinds of outsiders and their place or lack of it in society. He didn't hold back, disabled people, sex workers and queer people filled out his books in complex ways along with intersections of class, race, and gender. Main characters often crossed all three of those categories while being surrounded by others who did the same. He quite proudly referred to himself as a freak and encouraged others to be proud of theirs as well if they were in a similar position. It was that combined with his style which was truly beyond words that made him beloved by his fans. Books like his weren't things he could read in Russia, it would draw too much attention of the wrong kind. Vitya wasn't sure he could speak but he finally got it out, "How did you know?"

She said warmly, "The camaraderie. You're also fairly obvious but only to one of us. Don't worry, you're safe here." She looked at him with empathy. So she knew about living like that too. That changed things, it meant she hadn't done it to cause harm but rather the opposite. "Here, this was the one I wanted to give you. I think you'll like it. Make yourself at home." She handed him a book and bustled off to the kitchen. He was grateful for the chance to collect himself and thought it was probably by design. She was considerate but didn't hold back, traits he usually appreciated deeply but this had hit him over the back of the head like a brick thrown without warning. He got a hold on himself then looked at the book. It was The Island Beneath the Sea by Isabel Allende. He traced the cover gently and turned it over to read the blurb. He'd heard good things about Allende but had never read one of her books. She was considered by many to be a living treasure.

She returned with a strange looking cup in her hand that had a metal straw in it and a plate of something in the other. "Here, it's just tea. Have something to eat, you look like you're about to drop." He'd forgotten to eat after coming home so that was probably close to the truth. He picked up the cup and tried a sip. The taste was strange but extremely pleasant. He could get used to this. There was some kind of pastry on the plate. He didn't think about it, he just picked it up and started.

"Vkusno!" was all that came out during his mouthful. It tasted amazing. He had no idea what it was, he could taste complex flavours from greens, some kind of cheese and squash or pumpkin but he wanted to learn how to make it. She was laughing at him again. He finished his mouthful. "I'm sorry, but where are you from?" She didn't seem offended by his question.

He had finally looked around the apartment. Her taste was almost entirely opposite his, everything was primarily wood but only really ceramics otherwise. He saw patterns and designs everywhere that kind of reminded him of very traditional ones back home but at the same time were markedly different. Everything felt warm but the style was distinct. Looking at her in her leather jacket, she somehow fit here. "Chile." Ahh. That explained the Neruda. If she was a fan of literature, she would know Neruda as well as he knew Pushkin. "I've been here for a while now though." He didn't ask about that, he was aware of what had happened regarding Pinochet, it was better to let it lie. "You're very polite to have asked about that first rather than the other subject I raised." He didn't want to intrude on something so private. But maybe the rules were different? He didn't know anyone was open about it except for Chris so he had no way to measure it.

"And you live here alone? Why this book in particular? Can you teach me to make these?" He pointed at the plate.

She held up a hand while laughing again and said, "Slow down!" He tried to calm himself and sat back. "Yes, I live here alone and have for a long while. That book, because some of her other books cross into territory that relies very heavily on stereotypes, this one is the least like that while presented an actual and more complete view of the reality it attempts although of course it too has many problems. And I can teach you to make these anytime you're free but they might take some practise if you don't cook much." She paused, "When did you move in?"

He checked to make sure he hadn't died and went to heaven, pinching himself repeatedly. Then she noticed and stared. "Sorry." He tried very hard not to bounce in his seat. "I moved in last week on Monday, I think?"

She was still smiling, "You're like a little kid, you know. How old are you? Would that mean that the singing I heard was you?" He blushed deeply. So his neighbours had heard. He shuddered to think what they were going to hear and think of Chris since they would naturally assume it was him. He had to soundproof, badly.

He tried to keep a straight face and failed as he answered, "26. Yeah, that was me." He looked down at his tea. "What is this by way? I know you said tea but what type?"

She was still chuckling that, "Well, you have interesting taste in music if nothing else. The tea is mate, it's native to my home but it's not true tea in the traditional sense of the word." She paused, before continuing quietly, "I hope I didn't take you too off guard before and I apologise for any distress I caused you. I didn't mean to alarm you."

He knew that now but he appreciated the apology all the same, "It's ok. I'm new to America and I don't really have any people I know who are open about it except for one I see rarely, so I'm just not used to that kind of thing. One of the perks of coming here was that I would be able to be more myself without worrying but apparently that reaction takes a while to shake off." He looked down at his mate. "Is there a reason you live alone? I'm surprised you don't live with your niece."

She replied, "I know what you mean. It took me quite a while to be comfortable enough to be okay in public without looking over my shoulder constantly. It does happen, slowly. Friends help." She grinned mischievously before continuing, "I live alone because I prefer it, life doesn't always work out the way you want it to. My niece is older and needs her space and to make her own way and explore herself without interruptions. Her parents are quite conservative and it's best for her to take a break from being around older people. She visits when she can."

He took the point about her being in between partners right now. Not many people would have given their niece space like that either, she was putting other people first. "You don't seem very conservative." She was laughing again now. He couldn't help it, he found himself smiling along with her.

"I'm not. It's one of the many reasons I don't get along with her parents. They think I'm a bad influence but they'd rather have a relative to watch over her than none at all." Ahhh. So the living situation was undoubtably related to that too. He checked the time and mentally slapped himself repeatedly. He'd totally forgotten about training! And meeting Yuri in the library! Christ! She noticed and the change and asked, "is something wrong?"

"I forgot to go to training," he said sheepishly. "I was so out if it today that I forgot that and to meet up with someone. But it's far too late to do either now." Her eyes brightened.

"Not because of me, I hope?" She shook his head and assured her definitely not. He explained his spaceout and very impulsive decision that had lead him to trying to haul all that in the door but he left out the more important details. She was trying not to laugh again at him as she asked, "So are you an athlete? You said training." He tried to think about the best way to word this without giving everything away.

"I am an athlete. I'm trying to balance both that and school while I get ready for the upcoming competition season, it's almost here now." She looked concerned at that.

"Well, if you need any help with the apartment when you're competing, let me know. I can easily take care of the small things for you." He was filled with gratitude, that would be a huge help. Especially now he had the plants and Nika. He eyed her. Would she freak out over the fox? She didn't look like anything much could freak her out.

"Honestly, that would be great!" He didn't try to hide anything this time.

She looked at him kindly. "Well, I should probably let you go. You probably have things to do. But feel free to knock on my door after 5pm or slip a note under it if I'm not in, for coffee, books or someone to talk to."

He beamed, "Thank you! Please feel free to drop by mine too, if you feel like it or need anything." They continued talking quietly and bid each other goodbye at the door, and Vitya proceeded to go back to his apartment upstairs. He was insanely happy right now. She was awesome. And she'd just offered to be friends with him.

He was in such a good mood that he texted Yuri as soon as he got in the door.

: How were your classes today?

Y: fine

So he was like this even over text. He looked around for Nika and found him on the sofa. His water bowl was half empty so he refilled it before texting back.

: What are you doing right now?

Y: I'm at practice right now.

Vitya frowned in confusion. Yuri had never mentioned anything about practice. But then again he didn't mention much of anything.

: What do you practice? How was it?

Y: Skating

Y: And it was okay

Skating? He was a skater?! He was incredibly happy about that. No wonder he'd known who he was when they'd met. It made more sense now. But that didn't necessarily mean he liked him, Vitya reminded himself, as a skater or as a person. Most never saw past the ideal in their head of the first and almost nobody saw the second. He decided to get back on track.

: That's great! So, about Friday.

Y: what of it?

: Can we meet at 1:30pm?

Y: In front of the deli?

: Yep :*)

Now that he had nailed down an agreement on the meeting time and place, it was time to create the extra time he really wanted with Yuri. He would prefer to go get coffee with him after the museum so that they could talk afterwards and maybe he could gain some further insight into both Yuri and the art he would be seeing.

: Do you like coffee? Because we can stop for coffee before/after we go to the museum.

Y: I don't care much for coffee, really.

: Aww, well you can get something else from the café.

He tried to save it. He wanted that extra time with Yuri. He hoped he would allow it. Yuri didn't text back and Vitya chose not to push his luck any further than he already had for today.

He went to get dinner ready for them both. It took a little figuring out but he managed it just fine. He called Nika over and told him "Rabbit! Food." And set it down. Nika slinked over and started on his bowl hungrily. He sat down through dinner himself with another of his books. He was trying to make it through Kafka and the Shore but he was only a few chapters in.

He walked into his room and was faced with last night. He put his head in his hands. Then he looked at it. He'd done surprisingly well, far more than he'd ever thought himself capable of, but it was still embarrassing as all hell. It was almost finished, not much was left. He couldn't finish it tonight. He'd fix it another day. Instead, he set off for the bathroom.

One ridiculously long bubble bath later, he emerged after the water was completely cold. He smelled like cherries now but he didn't really care. This was the most relaxed he'd been all week. He went for his journal, pulled it towards him and tried to outline today. The more he tried, the more bizarre it seemed. He did his best and two hours later there was some semblance of it. It was as good as he was going to get.

He checked on Nika, who was back in his den after eating everything and patted him gently goodnight. It would take him a while to warm up or feel at home here and he wasn't going to take it personally. He crawled into bed, arranging his pillows and blankets just so. He tried not to think about tomorrow. Somehow he managed it. He had expected that he would be unable to sleep all night and his heart would be beating so fast it was ready to burst out of his chest but he had completely exhausted himself already today.

He sank swiftly into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Haru: To my own and everyone else in my general vicinities great relief, I am finally medicated again. Which means more writing and more practise all week

* * *

 **(** **Friday, 18 September 2015 – 8:30am, Detroit, Michigan)**

That morning he was so nervous about the coming afternoon that he was earlier to class than usual. He was reading while he was waiting until the red headed girl from last week slid into the seat beside him and took him by surprise.

"Hey," she said. Some of his current situation must have shown on his face because she looked at him strangely before giggling and asking, "Did you leave your head at home today? You look like you're expecting to be hit by a hurricane."

She wasn't entirely off the mark. "Yeah, I am kind of nervous. Sorry."

She eyed him, "Are you always this jumpy when you're nervous?" He stopped to think about that for a second. Fidgety? Yes. Jumpy? No. He shook his head while she kept a careful eye on him as if she expected that someone would need to intervene. "I'm glad to see you took me up on the book recommendation at least. Do you like it so far?"

He muddled through the thick stew of thoughts that was currently his head before managing to choke out, "Yes, very much, thank you for that. My name is Victor by the way." He remembered he had never introduced himself properly last time or gotten her name either.

She flashed a smile at him and extended her hand and countered with, "Eva. Pleasure to meet you too." She said the last part in a very cheeky way and he felt himself being drawn out of the mess that was his head for the first time since he'd awoken that morning. "So what's the story?"

He stared. He had no real way to explain this to her or any other stranger. "Umm?" He made a face as he considered the best way to do this considering he did want to be friends with her, "I have a date this afternoon. But not a date date. A homework date? But also a date date. Kind of."

She stared back at him in a mixture of disbelief and shock, "But it's only been one week! How did you manage to get a date that fast?" She examined him again like she was seeing a creature in the zoo for the first time before shooting him a look and then adding, "Never mind. That was a stupid question. Of course the hot guy can land a date in a week." He was stunned. Did she just call him hot? If nothing else she certainly seemed very miffed.

He was in such shock that he retorted demurely without thinking or looking up from his books, "Trust me, I'm not the hot guy out of the two in this scenario." He clapped his hand over his mouth and looked at her in horror. Had he really just let that slip out?

Instead she burst out into laughter eventually wiping tears from her eyes. "Ok, that does make me feel better. And it certainly does explain why you're so nervous." He looked on while trying to fight the urge to run or hide until Eva got herself together again. Once she did, the first thing she chose to do was corner him with this particular question, "So this is your first date with a guy I take it and that's why you're so nervous you're practically jumping out of your skin?"

Her little talent really was annoying. "Hey! Don't distract me. Why were you so miffed?" She looked down and away before dragging her eyes and face back like it was a chore she didn't want to attend to. He knew he was blushing but now at least both of them were uncomfortable.

She deigned to answer for some time before slowly coming out with, "I tried to ask someone out on Friday. It didn't go so well." She looked really down about it.

He tried to be helpful, "Where did it go wrong?"

She stopped chewing on her pen to answer, "The part where she didn't realise I was being full homo with her and thought I was just being friendly." She met his gaze just as he made the face of understanding.

"Oh. Urgh. Well, if it makes you feel better, I will probably be shot down on the date today since the guy in question probably thinks I'm just being friendly too. We can wallow together afterwards and go get food to make ourselves feel better," he offered. She stared at him. "What?! I stress eat, ok?" he said defensively.

She snorted and started chuckling again. "I think you meant you're an emotional eater," she pointed out, "but yes it does make me feel better, thanks."

"Technically it's both, in my case. And for the record, I'm fairly certain that you being turned down had nothing to do with you not being hot." It was the first time he had really looked at her without being busy, distracted or overwhelmed. She was tall, only about two inches shorter than him so she stood out by that alone at 5'9". He didn't exactly know what her ethnicity was other than she clearly had some African heritage, he couldn't pick out the rest. Her very curly hair that was dyed various shades of red made her standout anywhere but even without that she would have stood out due to her unique sense of style. Very dark, big, unusually shaped eyes drew you in and made it hard to look away. By anyone's standards, the reason she didn't have a date certainly was not due to her looks.

"Thanks? I think?" She was making some kind of expression with her mouth that he was unfamiliar with and didn't know what it meant. He raised an eyebrow in question. "So," she started, "are you gonna tell me what he looks like?" He smiled and looked down at the book.

"I'll show you who it is if you want. We probably shouldn't get our hopes up though." He looked up to see her mouthing "We" and wiggling her eyebrows at him so he had to stifle a laugh. "Hey, are you going to tell me why you moved?"

She pushed her things around her desk for a bit before she responded, "I guess it doesn't matter now if you know. My family caught me with a girl and they're very conservative. They didn't really appreciate it when I corrected them and told them I was bi either, come to think of it."

He frowned in confusion, "They sent you away for that?" He didn't see how that solved anything for anyone.

She gazed at him before matter of factly saying, "No, we compromised. I get to come here which is safer than down south as far as that goes and isn't conversion therapy as they were rather keen on that option and they get to keep their reputation and names scandal free. They're big on church and all that."

"I'm sorry, that sucks. Are there any upsides at least? More freedom here?"

She smiled widely, "Definitely more freedom here. I'm not disowned yet either, I still have time to either "get over the phase" by which they mean get married to a guy or do conversion therapy. Obviously I'm taking full advantage of the freedom and lack of parental guidance to do the opposite instead." She grinned and winked at him.

He couldn't stop laughing now, "I think you made the right choice. Doing the opposite seems to be the only viable option." Her reluctance at their first meeting made much more sense now. "Which city are you from?" He had noticed her way of speaking was markedly different from the other Americans here.

"New Orleans," she turned that into a drawl as she said it so he barely understood her. She saw his blank face and realised he didn't know where that was or its reputation. She smirked, "looks like I get to give you an education then."

Her watched her cross her ankles as she sat back, seemingly very pleased with this development, "as long as it's an education in food, sure!" She just laughed at his cluelessness.

"Nope," she replied, popping on the p. "I think we'll start with music and culture and do food later." He was definitely missing some inside joke or knowledge and was floundering because of it.

He shrugged. "Ok! But it might have to be a while, it's pretty hectic for me between college and training."

"No problem. Give me your phone." She reached over to take his phone after he'd barely gotten it out, handing hers over in the process. They exchanged numbers and returned their phones. He felt like he'd just signed up for something he wasn't entirely prepared for but he ignored that feeling since he was simply happy to be doing something new with someone.

As they were discussing exactly what point he'd reached in the book their professor walked in. They never got a chance to talk during class this time, everything was quiet until class ended. She reminded him of his promise to show him his date as they left and he agreed to find some devious way to do so as they broke for lunch and he headed home to get ready.

That afternoon, it was his first outing with Yuri. Victor wasn't taking any chances. He knew he'd be walking a lot today so he opted for his favourite sneakers mostly because he could walk long distances in them, they could pass as not sneakers at a glance and black was tidy. He went pulled out the new warm white dress shirt with light red cherry blossoms littered sparsely across it that he'd brought in his outing the other day and decided it was his best bet. His lack of options for pants was mortifying. He dug around and finding nothing in the old pile, turned to the new pile. Going through that, the new black jeans that he'd nabbed due to the great cut seemed his only option. He double checked to make sure he'd brought the right size when he finally read the tag. Armani. _Whoops.._ He didn't know much about fashion but even he knew that name. He hadn't even bothered checking the brand when he brought it but it did explain a lot. He wasn't going to be telling anyone about this at any rate, ever. He wasn't a fashion hoe and had no plans to become one anytime soon.

Quickly he searched through his other new purchases to check there were no other unpleasant surprises. The new t-shirt he'd brought to be his good new one also turned out to be Armani. Dammit. At least it was blank. There was nothing he could do about it now. He quickly dressed, fixed his hair, double checked all of his important belongings were on him and then he was off.

On the way he sent up silent thanks to Eva, just talking to her eariler had managed to calm him down enough the wasn't a bouncing bundle of nerves everywhere. He was nervous but it was an amount he could stand, and more importantly, it was contained. When he arrived he spotted Yuri fairly quickly and was surprised by the change of pace. He wasn't dressed anything like he normally was in class. Was this because this was out of college or because he did care what he thought? He had no way to tell. He wasn't likely to get it out of him anytime soon either.

"Yuri!" He called. He couldn't stop himself from being over enthusiastic. He'd more than half expected Yuri not to show. "You made it!"

Yuri was busy blushing slightly and looking down at his feet as he answered, "Yeah, I got out of bed today." He probably shouldn't have laughed at that but Yuri didn't sound like he was being entirely rhetorical, in fact he sounded quite miffed about it. Like he would have really preferred to stay in bed today. He closed out the other part of his mind that was already on standby and desperately trying to add more to the rest of that, like that he would have been perfectly fine visiting Yuri in his bed if he'd wanted to stay there, but now as not the time to be distracted by its nonsense. He couldn't afford the precious time he had to be ruined by it.

Instead, he said, "You look very dapper." It was true. He did. But it held a double meaning, because what Vitya really wanted to say but couldn't be sure of the reception was, 'You look very handsome'. Yuri looked causal but well put together, the shirt in particular was very nice with a art decoesque geometric designs done in a very modern style.

"Thanks. My roommate picked out my clothes." Yuri said this like it was nothing, just said something to be expected. Vitya struggled not to lose it and end up on the floor laughing openly. HIS. ROOMMATE. He couldn't breathe for a second but he managed to successfully repress the worst of it. Was that just a normal thing for Yuri anytime he had an event? Or had Yuri mentioned what he was doing? Had he asked for the help? Did his roommate even know he was out here with another guy? So many questions were buzzing around after this information that it took quite a while for him to refocus. He knew he'd only be able to ask one of his questions so he settled for what he guessed might yield the most information.

However, Yuri spoke first, "Do you want to stop for something before we go to the museum?" He seemed nervous as he playing with his phone before putting it back in his pocket and he couldn't fathom the reason behind why he asked. "We can stop in at the deli for a soda, we can go to the café for a coffee or a cake pop.. you have options." He was intensely amused by this and he had absolutely no idea what cake pop was. Yuri was positively rambling by his usual standards. He had no way to assess whether this was due to Yuri caring what he needed to be comfortable or not but it seemed a possibility. Maybe he just rambled when he was nervous or because he needed something before he would be comfortable.

He wanted his time afterwards. However, Yuri seemed like the type who would do better hanging onto something even if it was to take his mind off it or just as a prop, so he asked, "Well, do _you_ want something?" If they were going to do this he didn't want to cause any more stress than necessary. Well, perhaps a bit of stress wasn't a bad thing. Just not enough to sent him running in the other direction.

Yuri was busy looking stubborn as he insisted, "I don't know. I'll get something if you get something." The look on his face was quite endearing and he smothered his mirth. Clearly it was a mix of all the above reasons but apparent Yuri wasn't self aware enough to realise that.

After it was. "Let's get something after we go then. The museum I'm thinking of isn't too far. It's actually close to the college." He'd done some research in preparation and they had a reputation for decent and varied collections. He tried to keep his mind on track and return to his previous point after he successfully concluded traditional small talk, "So, you have a roommate?"

"Yeah"

He tried again, "And he picked out your clothes today?" It was a bit strange. Maybe roommates wasn't all they were. He felt unease and something else he didn't recognise unfurl and stretch at that thought, as if it were searching for something to sink its nails or claws into. It was an extremely unpleasant feeling.

Yuri was completely blank as he simply responded, "He did." His face changed slightly when he said, "My roommate is like that." Ahh. So he did like his roommate. That was good to know. He was caught off guard at what Yuri said next, "Do you have a roommate?"

He wished. It would be nice but he wasn't close enough to anyone for that nor did he think anyone would put up with him. He had no practise at living with other people either. He tried to answer appropriately, "No, just an apartment. It's kind of lonely, but I value the silence." What he valued was being able to work creatively without interruptions or having to be at someone else's behest. But roommates sounded nice, kind of, if the other person was someone you got on well with. Yuri had been paying attention for once to what he said so he spoke his mind, "So what do you do with your roommate?" He realised that could be taken the wrong way and tried to clarify, "I'm just curious, I've never had a roommate before." It was an accident sort of subconscious slip but now it had been said then if they were involved that he'd at least find out. His heart was beating a million miles an hour as he waited for all of his hopes to be dashed.

Yuri looked confused for a second before coming out with, "We help each other with homework. We cook dinner for each other. We go out together. You know, best friend-roommate stuff." That actually sounded really lovely. No wonder Yuri liked his roommate. They were now almost at their destination when Yuri asked, "What do you do in your free time?"

Vitya hid a smile. It seemed Yuri was curious about him as well although not as much as he was of him. Still, it was nice to know. The feeling sat there and slowly warmed him. "I practice and I read." He reminded himself that today he was trying to be more honest than usual so he added, " I read a lot, actually. It's very cathartic." Reading was very important to him. "Do you read a lot?" He asked Yuri.

Yuri seemed to have a moment before answering. "Books? No. But I do read about art." That was both a disappointment and a relief. If nothing else they complimented each other. Vitya was thinking about the other day when he had walked Yuri to class. The other part of him that he had very little control over wanted to be close to him like that again. While he was thinking it, he didn't notice that he was actually moving closer to Yuri. He wanted to touch him but he knew he couldn't. Out here it certainly would be too conspicuous. Not to mention Yuri would probably freak out. He settled for a question instead, "Why art?". He really did want to know how that had come to be.

Yuri seemed to weight it up before answering, "My sister would take me to museums with her and I've been into art ever since." So it had been his sister. It was nice to know his perceptive abilities were still working somewhat, it more be more important than ever with the rest of him all muddled up. He didn't have siblings. It must be nice to always have someone there close to your own age, particularly if you got on well enough as Yuri appeared to do. It likely wouldn't be easy to leave them behind either.

He wanted to know now. "Do you miss her?". Yuri nodded, still silent but he caught on the passing shadow that had accompanied whatever thoughts had come with it. "I see" he murmured awkwardly. He felt bad for bringing it up now, knowing it caused some amount of pain. He should be more careful.

He was taken back when Yuri came out with another kind of question totally out of the blue, "Have you always been coming here? To Wayne, I mean." He didn't sound entirely sure of himself. Vitya unconsciously bit his lip while he toyed with that. Honesty, he reminded himself; he would tell him what he could and keep it light and factual.

"Ever since I started postgraduate education. But I've usually been taking classes online. I decided that I needed a change of pace." He worked better online since there were less distractions. However the circumstances meant that distractions were now entirely appropriate. His latest distraction was quite tantalising and busy looking at him in mild disbelief.

Yuri blurted out, "So you decide to relocate to America to physically attend classes?" His tone said he was trying to walk through the logic of that but that it still sounded crazy. He supposed to him and everyone else, it did sound crazy.

He had hit the nail on the head and there was nothing much more he could add. "Exactly. It sounds foolish right now but it's something I wanted to do due a while. I can't keep putting off postgraduate education, can I? I'm only young for so long now."

His rhetorical question had appeared to bewilder Yuri, who was now looking wide eyed and came out immediately with, "Are you having an existential crisis?" He thought about what he said. No? He didn't think so. He was pretty sure he knew what those looked like and what they were about, they were abundant in Russian literature after all. This was something else entirely.

As this thought process went on, he struggled to communicate to Yuri in order to clear up the misunderstanding. "Me? Oh no, no. I'm just thinking out loud. Sorry." Yuri seemed very relived by this piece of information.

"It's fine," they were both markedly relieved. They were almost there now. Yuri seemed to still be curious about something. He was positively full of questions today. Vitya smiled to himself, it was a good thing Yuri did have some amount of interest in him even if it wasn't the same kind as his since he was willing to do rather a lot. Yuri seemed to steel himself and take a breath, "Have you made any new friends while you're here?"

That was a tough one. He thought of the girl in his class, his neighbour and the friendly barista. He couldn't technically count any of them as friends. Ironically right now, Yuri was the closest thing he had to a friend. He couldn't technically count him as a friend though, more as an acquaintance. It was difficult to think of someone as a friend when you constantly found yourself wondering what touching them would feel like. "No, sadly," he wondered if he was honest how much Yuri would be able to see. "But I met you. That has to count for something. Right?" The light had changed but Yuri still seemed glued to the spot. "Walk," Vitya reminded him. He seemed to come back to himself at that. Vitya wondered where he'd gone briefly.

Yuri seemed to be stuck on something. "Why did you choose me to talk to? There's so many other people." Was that what was bothering him? He tried to contain his laughter. Didn't he remember why Vitya had talked to him? The thought of turning away from him after what's he'd done was implausible to him.

"You complimented my hair," he reminded Yuri. "And you looked interesting. I like talking to interesting people." Both of those statements were strictly true but could be taken multiple ways. He was dropping hints because he knew he was going to have to make a move soon. "Is it wrong for me to want to talk to an interesting person?" _Don't you want me to talk to you?_

"Of course not," Yuri stammered out. "But you have to understand that-"

He knew. Vitya suddenly whirled around and stood directly in Yuri's path so that he was forced to stop or bump into him. He finished Yuri's sentence for him, "Every interaction we have is weird and one sided." 'I know' he thought, 'you don't have to tell me'. It must be weird for Yuri. It wasn't exactly easy for him either. He wished it wasn't so one sided, that Yuri would actually reciprocate his feeling and actions. But that was unlikely. Rather than muse over it, he took out his next note and pushed it into Yuri's hand. "Read that when you get the chance." It contained all the things he couldn't communicate any other way.

"Why do you keep giving me these notes?" Yuri seemed positively frazzled. Vitya took a deep breath. He was about to be even more frazzled. "You keep giving me these papers and I-"

He interrupted him, "We're here." It was now or never. He had to take a move. Yuri wasn't the type to openly put himself out there so Vityas only choice was to do it himself and pray that Yuri didn't hate him forever. If he didn't like him the same way at least he would know. Or if he wasn't even open to the idea then he'd be shot down quickly. He'd never been so terrified in his life.

He ignored everything, exclaimed, "Let's go!" with an absurd amount of enthusiasm and before he could double think anything, reached out and felt for Yuri's arm, gliding down the length of it until he reached his hand which he grasped tightly. He was dragging him along but holding Yuri's hand felt so nice. He would be able to enjoy it more if his heart wasn't busy coming out of his chest. He snuck a glance behind him, Yuri was completely red from blushing and seemed dazed. But he wasn't pulling away. He was holding on to Vitya with almost the same amount of pressure. Yuri didn't hate him. Yuri probably didn't realise he was holding him up, if not he would be on the floor.

He was high as a kite and not coming down anytime soon as they came up the steps and into the museum.

* * *

 _ **The Note**_

I Shall Talk to You by Rumi

: I shall talk to you

with no words

I shall whisper to you

no ears will hear

even if among the crowd

I tell my story

I know my tales

can only nest in your ears


	9. Chapter 9

Haru: Hey Y'all. This chapters ending is still under construction and may remain so for a while. I've tried quite a few things but nothing really fit well. It will teach me for posting something too soon, if there are delays then it's to avoid this from happening again.

* * *

 **(Friday, 18 September 2015 – 3:59pm, Detroit, Michigan)**

If he thought he had been overjoyed before, he was wrong. He was now 10,000 times happier than when he had held Yuri's hand. Which was saying something, because he currently wasn't touching Yuri at all. On arrival at the museum the other part of Vityas plan had fallen into place. Yuri had made his own choice without any pressure or other factors from him. He hasn't chosen to take off on his own when they got inside. Instead he had stayed strangely close to Vitya the entire time, almost as if he was arranging himself around him. This was far from their normal, as a rule until now it had been just Vitya orbiting Yuri whenever the two were near each other. Now at least it was slightly mutual and it was resulting in him being ineffably happy and trying not to bounce on his toes constantly.

This was proving difficult now, as they had moved to the café. Instead he was trying very hard not to rock in his chair. He didn't want to fall and make an ass out of himself but it was prohibitive so he refocused on Yuri. He had his time with him and he was determined to make the most of it. "How was the museum? What was your favourite part?" He had paid as much attention as he could to the art and Yuri's reactions to it and he felt like today was a serious step forward in understanding but his hold on it was still tentative. He wanted to know Yuri's thoughts and what kinds of things he liked.

"The museum was great!" Yuri looked happy and he was flushing while he was looking at his drink. He was so cute that Vitya was torn so he picked his coffee back up, it would steady him. "I think I really like the Rembrandt exhibit." Yuri had looked up as he says the last part and had seen him smiling. Rembrandt was a strong but interesting choice. He noted it mentally while he looked for the similarities between that and the other things Yuri had liked. Perhaps there was something about Rembrandt he liked that his favourite artists didn't do?

"Rembrandts' usage of dark colours is very nice. The landscape paintings he's done reminds me of the winters back home." The strong, dark and bold palettes Rembrandt was known for where in stark contrast to Yuri's other favourites, but then again he could have as easily been admiring his ability to render things to make them appear much more 3D than other artists of his time. "I think my favourite exhibit was the Rembrandt exhibit, too. I really liked The Visitation. The Self-Portrait Study one was very nice, too." The firsts composition and setting had struck him. It had been done precisely so that each figure, markedly different and expertly portrayed from each other, stood out without overbearing the entirety. The latter had been interesting because he didn't know what it took to pull off a self portrait like that but judging from his only experience drawing the other night, it must take as much in a personal sense as much as it did artistically.

"It's pretty dark though." So it was too dark for Yuri's taste.

"Yes, in terms of brightness, Rembrandt paintings are very dark." He tried to settle himself by sipping his coffee but only succeeded in burning himself. Yuri was looking at him. "Scorched my tongue," he said as Yuri laughed at him. He was looking substantially better than before, happier. He wanted to know what else Yuri liked, "What do you usually get from here?".

"Depending on the weather, either an iced tea or a Frappuccino." He supposed that made sense, and he mentally added it to his Yuri Notes. He would definitely need that later. Yuri was busy looking around but what he kept looking at he couldn't tell. Was he making him nervous? "And yourself?"

"Any day is a good day for coffee. I love it." This was true. Coffee was one of the few small pleasures in his life and as such he took advantage of it as much as he could. Yuri now seemed embarrassed and self conscious once again and had resorted to staring back at his iced tea but he couldn't tell why. Was it him? He hoped he'd remembered the other note. He checked his pocket, just in case and was immensely relieved to find it was still there. This note was in case Yuri hadn't chosen to leave in the exhibit, he had expected that he would do so he hadn't thought he'd need it but now circumstances had changed. He still wondered about Yuri's taste in art. He'd never seen him really like or get into western art yet, maybe there was something he was missing? "Do you like western art?" It would be a shame for him to be taking art here if he didn't.

"It's okay," Yuri mumbled at his tea. He didn't sound overtly enthused at all. Was this lack of exposure or did he dislike the styles? He'd done quite a bit of research before coming here and part of what he had researched was analysing what things Yuri liked in his favourite artists, he'd hoped by understanding it that he might be able to form a more general sense of Yuri's tastes.

"I should introduce you to Monet and Degas, then. I feel like they're up your alley." It was likely Impressionism wasn't Yuri's thing, but at least he knew he'd like the colour palettes.

"I've seen many pieces by Monet and Degas. Show me something new, something exciting." Yuri started laughing softly. He had never seen him he this open before, it was adorable. He continued, "I am such a hoe for art." He could feel the smile forming on his face and had no way to repress it this time so he gave up. If Yuri wanted new experiences though he was certainly willing to give him those. He had an idea now. He was surprised at Yuri ending on, "And maybe I'll introduce you to Hiroshige, Hokusai and Masanobu." He was struck and deeply grateful for that offer, all he could do was nod because he couldn't speak. It would be a huge help if Yuri was willing to do that. He was busy trying to guess his motivations when Yuri spoke again, "Oh. I never asked you what your major was."

Vitya looked up to carefully gauge his reaction to this one, before replying, "English." Technically it was English literature because they didn't have a general literature course, otherwise he could have taken it. He liked english more than well enough but he loved literature in general more. Since the two came together here, he wasn't going to be picky. Yuri had blanked hard in an attempt to hide his reaction, but not before he caught some of it. He realised this time what he was seeing.

Mircoexpressions. Yuri didn't make regular facial expressions like most people did, instead he just had microexpressions that accounted for about ninety percent of his facial expressions. It was like regular ones, but much more minimised and incredibly fast. You had to pay attention completely or be very good if you wanted to catch them all. Regular people would never notice, to them it would just look like Yuri's face was blank. It was only because he was so interested in Yuri that he was constantly paying attention to him was essentially the sole reason he had picked up on it at all. But he had caught the group of them that had passed over his face, surprise, confusion, incredulity – and the at the end, disappointment, among others. He supposed that wasn't surprising. He didn't want to disappoint Yuri but he had committed to being as honest as he could today within reason. Yuri finally spoke, "English? Really?".

He sighed internally. He didn't want to do this but it was too late. Yuri's voice had confirmed the incredulous and disappointment parts. He was standing firm on this one though, he owed literature a lot, it had gotten him through most of his tougher times. "Yes, really." He kept his voice both calm and firm and then took some coffee to regain some measure of equanimity before addressing the current point of contention between them head on, "Did you not expect me to be an English major?.

Yuri looked unsettled and shifted uneasily in his seat as he said, "Not at all. Why English?". Poor Yuri. He probably hadn't meant most of it the way it was coming across so he made some allowances for that and answered as best he could. Hopefully it would disperse some of the tension.

"I've spoken it for many years and I really like speaking it and reading in it. It's a funny language, but I like it. I might go into teaching, publishing or writing after I retire from skating, b-"

Yuri's head came up instantaneously and he interrupted him suddenly and loudly with, "I hope you never retire." He stared at him. He hadn't seen him be this passionate about anything so far. As they stared at each other, Yuri finally seemed to realise what he'd just done and said. Then his face started crumpling. Yuri started again, stumbling through his words, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off. If you choose to retire then –". Yuri had gone completely red, even to the tips of his ears. Vitya was moved but still in shock. He appreciated it deeply but he didn't think Yuri actually understood what so many years in the international arena was like. It was nothing like what the up and coming or amateur skaters dreamed it would be. Practically speaking, he only had two years left in the sport, perhaps three if he was lucky. But the sentiment behind it was undoubtedly real and at least he liked Victor Nikiforov the skater.

He wondered how to best address this concisely and did his best, "Yuri, you don't have to clean up your statement. It's nice to see a fan so passionate about something." He would work through this in his own time at home. Yuri was now twitching intermittently and seemed to be getting anxious again. He tried to catch his eye twice, to no avail. Then he remembered his idea from before. Now seemed as good a time as any and the only time Yuri seemed to truly relax was around art. It was his likely the closest thing to a solution that would help him calm down again. "Hey, do you want to see something?"

"What is it?" Yuri asked, still distracted.

"Don't worry about it." He didn't want Yuri working himself up further needlessly. He grabbed his phone and started going through it. He'd stored some artwork in his photos that he'd thought Yuri might like and was busy trying to find hem when he noticed Yuri was already trying to look at his phone. "Don't look yet!" He tilled it so Yuri couldn't see and it was a good thing he did because the next thing scrolling through his photos were some gobsmacking photos of Chris busy being Chris. That reminded him of his promise, if he didn't get a photo of Yuri for Chris he would lose an ear next time they talked. He wanted his own for other reasons too. He snuck a look at Yuri and made a decision quickly, "Wait, before I continue, I should get a contact photo of you. Pose for me!" Yuri looked up, already looking cute as heck and simply gave a peace sign. He tried very hard not to laugh. He wasn't sending Chris this one or he wouldn't have Yuri to himself for the next decade. "There we go! Okay. You can stop posing now." Yuri relaxed and went back to his tea, all he heard was muffled chuckling. He finally found the art he was looking for, so he turned the phone so Yuri would be able to see it properly with him. "This is Nova Aurigae by Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz. It's really colourful and very different from Rembrandt. And this one is Fantasy, it's also by Witkiewicz."

He'd chosen with great consideration. These and the few other artists he'd selected did have something particular in common with Yuri's favourites, primarily the strong, defining linework Yuri already clearly favoured. He hoped that might soften Yuri towards western art if he saw other artists who valued the same things that he did. Yuri was busy looking at them as he said, "Where is, um, that person from?"

"Witkiewicz? He's Polish." Yuri nodded, as if he was trying to absorb that. Whenever he was looking at art, he ended up getting draw into it and his face transformed completely. Before in the museum, Vitya had spent as much time watching Yuri look at the artwork as he had spent canvassing the art. It was the happiest Vitya had been in a long time. "Later I should show you some Kramskoi and Mayakovsky," he was so happy he couldn't keep it to himself anymore. Yuri noticed and started smiling back at him in a very shy and embarrassed way but his face was still glowing from before. It wasn't smart to mention it but then again he wasn't smart, "Ah, you look so sweet." Yuri blushed again and started smiling slowly before looking down at his hands. He was getting hot under the collar, he needed a distraction before he did something really stupid. He tried to focus on practicalities at least partially, "We should do this again next week. I mean, we have to go to the museum next week, but we should go to the museum together next week." He'd sounded like a fool and he knew it. His phone saved him by buzzing so he checked it; it was Chris. He didn't particularly feel like losing an ear so he said to Yuri, "Oh wait, pose for another picture."

Yuri didn't seem alarmed but he also didn't really even want to attempt to explain Chris. Chris was an experience. Yuri just said "Okay," and continued drinking his tea. He narrowed his eyes as he thought about this. It was probably better he just took a picture now without Yuri noticing, that way it wouldn't turn out either great or terrible. He didn't want to have to fend Chris away from Yuri. Chris was a terrible flirt and went after everyone, he was so bad that he didn't realise he was doing it most of the time. This was definitely the safest bet so he quickly snapped one while Yuri was still enthralled with his tea. Yuri saw the last part and exclaimed "Did you already take it? I wasn't ready!"

'Good', he thought, 'that was the point'. He was amused that Yuri worried about things like this but assured him, "You look great." He looked at the photo before he sent it. Yuri did look good. The angles, his position and Yuri's hair hid just enough of his cuteness that Chris wouldn't try to pounce on him immediately although there was nothing he could do about his good looks or Chris's imagination running wild, as it inevitably would.

"I'm not so sure of that." He attempted to stop from laughing as Yuri did look slightly put out right now and that only made him want to touch him more than he already did. He stoped himself and wrapped his free hand around his coffee firmly so it wouldn't act of its own accord.

He tried to soothe Yuri, "Well I am and I am certain. You look great, Yuri." Yuri still looked disbelieving but his self consciousness was creeping back in on him.

"Who was my photo for?"

"Chris Giacometti."

"Him?" Some understanding passed across his face, along with a frown as he tried to work something out. "He's about a year older than me, right?" Vitya wondered at that. Was he? Yuri looked very young, maybe nineteen. Perhaps it was his perspective that was off though, he didn't actually know how old Yuri was. Yuri saw this and added "I'm 22." Thank god he was older than he looked. The thought of going after anyone too young had been making him uncomfortable but four years was doable. He mentally did the math; he was fairly certain Chris was twenty-three this year so once he double checked, he nodded. "I thought so," Yuri said. Now he was curious, Yuri must really like skating to know how old Chris was. Or was he a fan of Chris as well? That thought didn't sit entirely well with him and he went back to his coffee. He knew he was treating it as a prop but he needed a prop right now. He was out of his depth with the complex mix of feelings that today had brought on so far. Yuri was looking curious before he managed to ask, "Are you two friends?"

"Extremely close friends. I told him I was going to the museum today and he wanted updates." He felt like he was walking a line now. He'd have to introduce Chris and Yuri at some point if this continued, there was absolutely no avoiding it but he was far from comfortable with this fact.

"So you send him my picture?" Yuri was back to looking confused. Did he not send pictures of people he was interested in to his friends? If so, he would be on a personal mission to change that.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" He wouldn't survive a month if he hadn't. Perhaps he simply had more normal friendships than Vitya did. That made him reconsider. Not everyone was like them or comfortable with the same things, he'd have to be considerate.

"What did you just text him?" He peered at Yuri. So he was nervous? Of what? Of his own motivations, of what Chris would think or was he just as anxious over this as he was over everything else?

Vitya considered before giving him most but not all of it, it would settle him down hopefully, "Out for coffee with… Yuri." That last part hadn't been strictly true, instead he'd put 'the cutie' since Chris would already know who he was talking about and all that it meant. It might make Yuri feel better if he expanded, "Chris is very excited to see that I'm hanging out with people." Yuri didn't seem pleased by that. Technically that was true but he and Chris both knew what Chris was really concerned over what his complete and utter lack of dating. He amended it to better reflect that, "Well, with someone I am interested in getting to know, that is." He had stated his intentions openly so that Yuri was free to decline or put a stop to it now. He took a deep breath and checked for the reaction, only to see that Yuri seemed to be baffled by some part of it.

"You want… to get to know me?" Yuri had spoken slowly, sounding as if he was about to choke on the latter part. Um, really? He had already held his hand, asked him out and declared his intentions. How much more did he need before he understood? It seemed Yuri was really quite dense and that was only going to make this more difficult for both of them but right now it was making it harder for him more so.

"Sure! Why wouldn't I?" Enthusiasm was what he slipped back into as he used his coffee for stability. He was about to have a crack at this and he didn't feel ready for it but it had to be done. Perhaps pointing out the obvious would help, "You're nice and you can actually say my name." Yuri started chuckling at his half rhetorical answer and he took another deep breath before letting it go and putting it on the table, "I like you, Yuri Katsuki." He had said that with enough meaning that anyone would understand he meant like and he knew he had slipped back into the way he said Yuri's name in his head. It was time to make him understand and he'd been holding bank all day but he knew Yuri couldn't take too much. He released his hand from his coffee cup and reached out across the table to rest it besides Yuri's, where he could easily extend his finger to touch him. Not much, but just enough, he moved lightly over Yuri's knuckle with the pad of his finger. He felt very warm and surprisingly soft and smooth. Vitya hadn't expected any of those things. Yuri was looking at him but appeared to be in more than one mind and didn't know what to do. He would stop at the first sign he was uncomfortable but it hadn't come yet, and maybe it wouldn't if he kept Yuri from focusing too much on it, "Oh! Before I forget!" He yanked the non-running away note from his pocket and put it into Yuri's hand but he couldn't stop himself from lingering a bit too long before he pulled back.

"Another one?"

"Another one." Yuri quickly put the note in his bag and went back to his drink. It was probably a good thing, he didn't really want him to read that one in a public place. He smiled just thinking about it. He knew Yuri was deliberately focusing more than he needed to on his tea in order to avoid having to deal with their current situation, so he went back to very lightly running his finger over Yuri's knuckles, this time expanding his exploration to the two either side of the centre one he had limited himself to before. His heart was seconds from coming out his chest but he didn't care. Yuri was very slowly starting to blush lightly now he had returned to this. "What are you doing this weekend?" His voice came out huskier than he had intended it and he hoped Yuri would realise it was from him touching him and not because he was implying anything.

"Probably practising or working on my coursework. Yourself?" Yuri had made a show of saying that calmly but he had heard his voice tremble. So he did have an effect on him. He was glad he wasn't alone in that at least.

"Same, probably practicing or working on classwork." He was enjoying the moment and found a measure of comfort that he wasn't the only one affected by their current situation as he and Yuri gazed at each other. This came to an end when Yuri eventually looked away as he very slowly started showing more and more signs of being anxious and he had a hard time not asking him why, worried he wanted him to stop. By the time Yuri started bouncing his leg on top of avoiding all eye contact and getting redder by the second, he decided the next time they finally made eye contact to simply ask, "You seem anxious. Is something bothering you?" If it was something else then he would deal with it. If Yuri wanted him to stop though, he needed to know immediately; he desperately hoped this wasn't the case as he waited with bated breath.

Yuri looked unsure as he replied, "I can't remember if I was supposed to text my roommate. Also, you're still touching me." He said that as if Vitya didn't realise he was still doing it, as if it had been some kind of accident. He started laughing to himself, as if he was thinking about anything else but that. Yuri should probably text his roommate though and he was about to mention it when Yuri said, "I'll text him. Just to be safe." He nodded his agreement, it probably was the best idea. Yuri drew his phone out and hesitated for a moment before asking very unsurely, "Pose for me?" He complied with the request and Yuri went back to texting after muttering, "Thank you," in his general direction.

While Yuri was giggling at something he couldn't see his own phone went off. It was Chris responding to the photo he sent of Yuri earlier.

Chris: Oh doesn't he look like a snack lmao

Chris: He's cute. You have good taste.

Chris: Wait, duh. Ofc you have good taste.

Chris: Proud of you for having good taste, love.

Chris: You may continue loving the pants off of him

He choked as he read the last line and then dissolved into a quick coughing fit. He knew Chris, and he knew he had meant that last line both literally and figuratively. He could feel his face blazing from the mental images it brought up and took a few moments before he could look back at Yuri, paranoid that somehow he knew what he was thinking and feeling guilty that he'd thought that at all. But Yuri just sat there looking totally innocent and somehow that made him feel even worse. He quickly sent back "Stop making this more difficult for me". Chris replied promptly with "Never" and he couldn't help but laugh. His timing was impeccable and obnoxiously unideal, as it was coming to the end of their date and now he was going to have a hard time not thinking about that for the rest of it.

Yuri had looked up from his phone and asked, "Was that Chris?" After that exchange he couldn't exactly speak just yet, so he nodded while he attempted to recover.

Once he had some control, he responded, "He's being very Chris-like." He tried to keep the host of emotions off his face and instead queried, "Do you want to get going? Your roommate might be getting concerned." Probably concerned about him getting Yuri out of his pants, he added mentally.

Yuri looked slightly confused as he replied, "I don't know. Let me ask him." He sat and played with his coffee until Yuri finished. "He said 'come back whenever'. So I guess I can come back whenever." He was busy being amused that Yuri's roommate was essentially his boyfriend in every practical way and couldn't help questioning the wisdom of what he'd said. Coming back whenever when he was concerned wasn't the brightest idea. Words left Yuri mouth on a rush, leaving him breathless as he came out very suddenly with, "Do you want to do anything? I mean if you want to do anything else with me. You don't have to."

He stared at him. Did he want to spend more time with him or was this a very polite way of asking to be released from being his hostage? It was true Yuri hadn't ran away yet but he appear to be very and increasingly anxious the entire time he'd been touching him. Unable to figure out what his real feelings were, he decided on using another checkpoint so he didn't get ahead of himself. The more options that Yuri had to say no to, the better of a reading he would get, at least he hoped that was how it would work.

"Yuri, let me just take you home. You seem like you're going to physically have a meltdown if I keep you out any longer." It was best this way, especially since he was already having trouble restraining himself from going any further which he knew Yuri couldn't take. He knew his own limits. "Come on, I'll walk you home." It was the least he could do to make sure Yuri was safe and having a destination meant a little more time but without things getting out of hand. He got up and offered Yuri his hand. Checkpoint; if Yuri turned down this, that was a good indicator. Yuri just stared like he'd never seen someone's hand before. Internally, he was starting to freak out now.

"Don't you want you coffee?" Yuri asked as if he was in a daze. Was it that bad?

He bit his lip and tried to forge on despite everything, "I'll get that once I get you situated." Unlike Yuri, he had his priorities in order. After a very long moment, Yuri reached out and used his hand to pull himself out of the chair. Vitya picked up the rest and made sure they had everything and then started walking. Yuri seemed very out of it so he tugged his hand gently to get his attention. "Where do you live? You should probably be guiding me, not the other way around." He would get the address and use google maps if Yuri didn't respond but he needed to know that Yuri could take charge when it was necessary and practical, like now. Instead Yuri almost stopped walking and at the same time he felt the pressure from holding his hand before that had been so reassuring, withdraw almost entirely. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and internally swore. Was so little enough to put Yuri off? He dreaded this. It was better to know so he asked, "Do you want me to keep holding your hand?"

"Do whatever," mumbled from Yuri was the only response he got.

"That isn't helpful." That was it. He was letting go, as much as it pained him to do so. He wasn't going to be with someone who didn't want him, he wasn't going through that again.

"Fine. Hold my hand." He silently thanked the gods and held Yuri's hand tighter. He needed some active participation in this from Yuri, even if it just started out as baby steps.

"Now lead." He tried to sound encouraging as he said it. Yuri seemed to take a while first to orient himself before starting at a snails pace in the right direction. As they walked, he noted Yuri's fast breathing and other signs of agitation. He would have liked to reach out and touch his face and tell him it was ok but it was clear that doing so would only make things worse. He settled for half closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of Yuri's hand in his for the next however many minutes. It felt like the time flew by and before he knew it, they were turning to walk up a way and then to a door.

He felt sad now. He didn't really want to leave yet but staying really wasn't a good idea. They were still holding hands and as he looked up at Yuri, he saw he clearly had something on his mind. "Thank you for walking me home," was delivered quietly as if Yuri was puzzled by it. Vitya bit his lip; no matter what he seemed to do, it always seemed to be the wrong thing around Yuri.

"And thank you for accompanying me to the museum." He had enjoyed it immensely even though he didn't really think Yuri had enjoyed his presence that much. He was trying to figure out what to make of all of this.

"Text me when you get home?" Yuri asked. He was grateful for his politeness and he looked down as he answered.

"I will." He looked up into the face of his personal angel who apparently was so reluctant to return his favour. He started memorising his face, just in case. When he had committed as much detail as he could, he turned to go.

"Wait! Before you go!" Yuri tugged him back and he turned to him, frowning in confusion. Yuri had his phone out and was attempting to take a photo of their hands of all things. He wasn't going to try to figure this one out right now. He stood silently until Yuri finished. When he was done Yuri gazed at him, taking him off guard before saying, "I'm really glad you walked me home." Then Yuri started smiling his personal smile, the one he usually did when he was looking at art or looking at texts from his roommate. Vitya blinked, completely befuddled. No fair. Yuri was not playing fair, at all. "Talk to you later, Victor."

It took a moment for him to respond. "Same to you, Yuri." He wanted to end this on a good note but he didn't know how it would be received. He squeezed Yuri's hand while using his thumb to go in circles over the space between Yuri's forefinger and thumb and then reached out to touch Yuri's face with the other, gliding gently down the side of his face as he smiled at him. Yuri looked stunned. He turned and started walking.

His head was a mess. He walked back home slowly, trying to make sense of everything. He wasn't getting anywhere. He wondered if doing this was even a good idea at all. He couldn't figure out how much of their afternoon had been that Yuri distinctly disliked taking the lead in anything or if it had just been his natural shyness and self containment. He was far too cute to be completely inexperienced so that option was out. Vitya watched the sun set as he walked, taking in the landscape as his feet automatically took him home.

* * *

 _ **The Note**_

The Dream by Alexander Pushkin

:Not long ago, in a charming dream,

I saw myself - a king with crown's treasure;

I was in love with you, it seemed,

And my heart was beating with a pleasure.

I sang my passion's song by your enchanting knees.

Why, dreams, you didn't prolong my happiness forever?

But gods deprived me not of their whole favor:

I only lost the kingdom of my dreams.


End file.
